Amidst the Storm
by ReadyforRachel
Summary: The obligatory modern-woman-in-thedas story, for pure self-indulgence. Arissa is dropped into one of her favorite video game series, forced to play along with the story as it unfolds. Begins staying on track with Origins, but off-roads soon enough. Give in to the guilty pleasure we all have and give it a read.
1. Chapter 1

ONE

" _-cannot be reached at this time. Please leave your message after the tone."_

BEEP.

"Hey, its me, _again_. You know, your best friend? The one you were supposed to pick up over an hour ago? Stranded in the rain? Please pick up your fucking phone, Drew."

I slammed my thumb on the red button, huffing and pulling my pleather jacket tighter around my body, trying to shield myself from the berating wind and rain. Another flash of light and I mentally began to count to prepare myself. _1… 2… 3… 4…._

 _CRASH!  
_ I still jumped at the thunder, cursing my own jumpiness under my breath. A shiver overtook me as a car passed by. It was late. Far too late to be standing outside by myself, in the middle of a storm. My ride home, however, was nowhere to be seen. I glance back at the bar, wondering if I should just go back inside, try to get ahold of Drew from inside. A flash of the bartender's hungry eyes raking up and down my body sent me tensely looking back down the road, watching for signs of the green jeep that belonged to my _very late_ friend.

I may as well have left my skin behind as I jumped and yelped, another lightning strike sending me into a panic. I could swear that that one had only been meters from me. I stumbled down the sidewalk a ways, dazed and more than a bit frightened. Another flash, all around me. The crashing filling my ears, rattling my bones, scorching my core. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. It _burned_.

I was only aware of the screaming when the crash ended and the burning abruptly stopped. Only the burning in my throat brought me aware of the fact that I had been the one screaming. At some point I had ended up on my knees, arms still hugging my own body tightly. I squeezed my eyes open before they flew open wider.

Instead of seeing 27th Street, I was greeted with trees. Dark, looming trees and a damp wetness seeping into my jeans from the dewy grass I was sat on. I squeezed my eyes shut once more, trying to blink the image of the trees away, to blink myself back to where I was supposed to be. I peeked open an eye, only to still see the trees surrounding me. I huffed, pushing a hand into the soft, moist ground. A resounding squelch followed as I pulled my hand up and out of the wet ground. I took in the surrounding wetlands, wishing away whatever predicament I had gotten myself into. Alright, Arissa, you're a psychology major, I reminded myself. What's going on? How do you explain this away?

I wracked my brain, trying to figure how I could possibly be one place and then suddenly another. I lifted a heel that had sunk deep into the ground with far too much effort. Losing time. It wasn't unheard of. People blacking out and waking up with no clue where they were or how much time had passed. I cursed the $40 I had wasted on these stupid shoes and began to yank one off my foot as the other heel began to sink again. In my effort to undo the latch on the strap, I skewed my balance backwards and fell, landing promptly on my backside, grunting at the impact.

"Not… worth… forty… fucking… dollars!"

I finally tug off the second heel, letting out a "HAH!" of victory. I contemplate the shoes for a moment before tossing them to the side and leaving them on the ground as I stand once more. I glance around at my surroundings once more, only affronted with endless trees.

"Right. Okay. So. Pick a direction and walk."

Figure, if I walk one direction for awhile, I'm bound to find something. At least, the end of the forest. Eventually.

My legs shook with the effort to take another step. How long had I been walking? I couldn't tell anymore. I wasn't even sure if I was still headed in the same direction I had initially chosen. The dark had long since turned to dawn and now it was somewhere in the next day. How many hours had it been? How far had I gone? Everything looked the same in this forest. A noise pulled me out of my slight trance. A crack, a twig or a branch breaking. A sound, one I hadn't yet been greeted with in this still, wet place.

I stilled in my movements, unsure how to react to the noise. A person, maybe, if I was lucky, but more likely it was an animal. There had been no animals thus far, signalling to my brain that I should be fearful. Stillness and silence likely meant a predator, a dangerous one. As if on cue, movement came from the brush, a sort of growling and spitting following suit. I could see a figure in the shadows of the trees, though it almost looked human, not something that should be making such sounds. I felt myself still planted in my spot, unable to force my body to move. I looked down to my feet urging them onward mentally. Something shone up at me, markings glowing in a circular formation. It looked almost familiar, but still strange and foreign. My stupor over the glowing markings was broken when another growl signalled, this time much closer than before.

Dread wrenched my gut at the sight before me. Sunken cheeks around a sharp, yellow and brown maw of teeth. Flesh wrinkled and dry, forming around bone and sinewy muscle. Beady eyes, locked onto me, a hungry, terrible grin between cracked brown lips. The stench of filth and rot hit me abruptly, raising bile in my throat. I would almost tell myself this was a zombie, all those horror movies come to life, if it was for the spark of intelligence behind those horrible black eyes that devoured my shape. A thump of the wooden staff in its hand and a great spitting howl into the air, its long sunken face tilting upwards to echo the noise better.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to not be here, in this moment, any longer. I didn't feel any sort of pain immediately. Instead, I heard the clanging of metal, shouts of anger and frustration. I peeked an eye open, before frantically looking around. People, real people, surrounded me. With swords. Fighting back the zombie-like creatures. Clad in armor, like that of a medieval knight or something one might find at a renaissance fair. One of the creatures fell against me as one of the warriors struck them, the impact knocking the breath out of me. My mouth fell open as I gasped for air, the bitter, metallic tang of blood greeting me. I coughed and sputtered as a sour, disgusting taste affronted my tongue. I spat and gagged, but I could feel the taste slide down my throat. A dry heave assaulted my stomach, but to no avail to rid myself of the vile blood of the beast that I had consumed. Disgust overwhelmed me, but with a start I realized I was finally able to move once more. I stood up, stumbling away from the fighting as best I could. Cold, sharp fingers gripped my shoulders, a hard impact hitting my head and back. I turn up to look behind me, fear curdling my stomach. Relief swells as I realize its only one of the warriors, not the terrifying creatures that had erupted from the trees around me.

"Stay behind me," the muffled voice from behind the helmet commanded. I nodded and obeyed, following him closely as him and his company carved a path through the creatures, leading me through the trees and eventually, to a path. I didn't intend to cling so closely to the man's back, but I did, a hand resting against his metal-clad shoulder all the while we clambered forward.

"We have a mission we must complete," the gruff, muffled voice informed me. We had stopped, finally free of the thick trees and beasts within. I looked up to the helmet, the small window allowing me to look into the dark eyes. "I cannot guarantee your safety unless you stay with us. The darkspawn linger in the shadows still, and the only safe place will be within the walls of Ostagar."

"Darkspawn?" I repeated numbly, feeling my head begin to swim. I knew the word, but couldn't place its meaning. The name Ostagar set my brain on fire as I began to piece together the events, the sights. I knew this story, knew these creatures, this world. Although, it was all quite different and unrecognizable when brought to life rather than on a screen. It couldn't be right, but when the helmets began to come off, I recognized three of the faces immediately. Two I couldn't quite remember the names of, but one I immediately recognized as Alistair, my chosen in-game romance. My savior, however, I did not recognize. Numbly, I wondered if this was Cousland? He was certainly human, and he wielded a sword and shield, not a staff. Cousland, then, I assumed.

"The monsters that were ready to carry you off," a dark brow quirked quizzically, eyeing me with curiosity. "You've never seen one before, then?"

I shook my head, still feeling a bit numb and shell-shocked. This couldn't be real, but then again, I considered, I may as well go along for the ride. "No, never," I stated quietly, eyes darting across the faces of the men.

"All the more reason you must stay with us then," he stated simply, using a hand on my shoulder to guide me ahead of him as he replaced his helmet upon his head. "Stay safe, avoid the taint and the blight. We have to complete this mission."

 _Avoid the taint_ … I stopped mid-step and he almost barreled into me. I could almost palpably feel the color draining from my face as I realized with dread what had happened. "I have the taint." It was a numb statement, a dull realization.

"How do you know? The blood-" It was Alistair's voice, distinctly recognizable to my ears, even in this state.

"It got in my mouth," I responded, hands gathering into my hair, all gathered on top of my head. A small curse from Alistair, echoing inside his helmet.

"We'll still bring her with us," the man who I assumed to be Cousland stated with conviction. "Duncan will know how to proceed."

Alistair gave a nod of agreement, though I could feel the gravity of pity radiating off of the men.

"Your mission," I began, swallowing thickly. "What is it?"

It was Alistair who answered this time, preventing the others from saying too much, I would assume. "Grey Warden business. We are to retrieve some items from a ruin, then return back. Its not far now, we should be headed back to Ostagar soon."

"I see." So they were only in the beginnings of it all, gathering the blood and the documents, which mean they had yet to meet Morrigan and Flemeth. I knew what was to come, yet fear and uncertainty still mingled into my gut as we pressed forward, a dull ache beginning to swell in my head between my eyes. Was this the blight sickness, beginning to pull me to the hands of the Archdemon? Was I fated to become a ghoul? Or would the darkspawn sense me and come for me, to take to me to become a broodmother? I shiver crawled down my spine at the thought, remembering the horrible rendering. How would it look in actuality?

* * *

 **Not my first choice of story to write, but simply the only type I can actually motivate myself to write at the moment. Definitely a guilty pleasure of mine and something I want to at least try to do well if I'm going to do it. I am, for the most part, making up most of it as I go along, though I do have a vague, general game plan. If you made it this far, thanks for the read! Comment if you wanna, it is encouraging, but lurking and reading is fine as well.**


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

The men had been… less than diplomatic with Morrigan. Not much the same treatment they had given to me, a damsel in distress I suppose. While the men had been becoming more and more distrusting and abrasive, Morrigan had turned to me, using the same line I recognized word for word from the game. "Women do not scare as easily." Much to the surprise of my gaggle of warrior saviors, I had easily taken lead in navigating the conversation to convince her to bring us to Flemeth. I didn't remember the exact wording that had been scripted to my own personal warden, but I remembered the jist of it well enough and guided the situation into a more favorable direction. The regard of the men towards me had changed, apparently realizing that I was more than just a damsel for the first time since they rescued me. It was while Morrigan was leading us to her mother that Daveth gave me a long, sidelong look.

"Just what were you doing out in the wilds, anyway?" he asked, not withholding his accusatory and suspicious tone.

Unease swept through me as I realized I had to think quick on my feet and weave some kind of story. I had never been a great at making things up on short notice, which is why I had failed horribly in the improv acting classes my mother had forced upon me to try and "bring me out of my shell." I settled for half truths to guide my tongue as I hugged myself once more in the damp wilderness.

"Well, I didn't mean to be there at all," I answered carefully, hoping they took my measured words as trauma and fear rather than the unease that it actually was. "I've been quite lost and wondered around through the night. Its a wonder the darkspawn didn't find me sooner than they did." It was a vague response, but had given me enough time to come up with a proper explanation. "I was traveling when I was attacked by a group of bandits. Fleeing the war, really. Hoping to escape before it got too bad. Too late for that now." I grimaced, reminding myself that I was sick with the blight. "I managed to get away with nothing but the clothes on my back, but ended up stranded in the forest."

The group swallowed my words easily, though Morrigan cast me a short look that gave me the stark impression that she hardly believed a word I had just uttered. Of course, it would be her that would suspect my lies, rather than the testosterone driven recruits I traveled with, riding the high of rescuing me from my would-be horrible fate.

"Its a good thing Cousland heard you when he did," Jory remarked, clapping his brother-in-arms on the back.

"I heard the darkspawn," Aedan corrected, glancing back at us from his position at the head of the group. It seemed he was already taking charge, and Alistair allowing it, never being one to jump to lead if somebody else is willing to take on the duty- despite him being senior to the man. "I didn't know what they had, but it certainly sounded like a rallying cry, which would lead to what we needed."

Which would have been darkspawn blood, which they would not tell me, as it was a "warden secret." It was mostly silent, aside from slight question filled banter from the recruits to Alistair, which Alistair carefully paced around with poor jokes and sarcasm. Morrigan gave short, clipped remarks, with poor covers of niceties and etiquette. It was a bit of a walk since it wasn't disguised by a load screen and Flemeth was hidden away within the small hut when we arrived, not waiting out front. Morrigan had us stay outside while she went in to retrieve the elderly woman. She hobbled out the door, really playing up the "old woman" farce that I knew to be fake.

"Ah, you're later than I expected," she started, eyes looking onto me. There was a spark of fascination and something akin to greed that set my skin crawling.

"Are we supposed to believe you expected us?" Alistair quipped, ever the foolish and loudmouthed.

I began to ignore the idle banter; Flemeth's biting and cryptic words, Daveth's paranoid urgings, Alistair's sarcasm. It left my with little surprise when Cousland took the lead of the conversation, seeming to this time follow my earlier diplomatic example with Morrigan. Yet, before she bid Morrigan guide us back to camp, she pulled me from my reverie and requested a quiet word with me, under the shroud of "examining me for any injuries," as she was a healer, among other talents. My men reluctantly agreed and I numbly followed her lead into the hut, glancing around at the talismans and bottles riddling the walls and shelves.

"Undress, and I will give you better robes," she commanded, shuffling through a cabinet. "Tainted though you may be, it is unwise to stay in bloody clothes, especially those which you currently don, as they are from your old realm."

"Of course you would know," I bit out, shaking my head. "So this is real then? Not just some bad dream?"

"Tis no trick of the Fade, I'm afraid. I can smell it on you, like wet on a dog. Now, I bid you undress, did I not?"

I decided it better to do as she wished, reminding myself that although she always served her own purposes, they hadn't proven evil thus far. Well, aside from raising daughters only to possess; though that was fueled by self-preservation rather than a want to do wrong. No matter, she was right in that I needed to change into something more appropriate for the circumstances and less covered in the taint. Stripped down to my underwear, she helped to clean my skin of any residual blood and muck before offering me the clean clothes. It was nothing as fanciful as Morrigan's attire, neither as drab as her own current outfit. It was rather a simple tunic and vest, along with trousers, which would be tucked into the boots at the calf. She offered a scarf along with it, which I adorned around my neck, tucking the ends into the vest. When dressed, I leveled my gaze at her, curiosity peaking.

"Do you know how I got here, or how I might get back home?" I questioned, adjusting my outfit a bit here and there until it suited me more comfortably. Flemeth only shook her head, offering a small smile.

"I only can say that you are here now, by whatever manner of travel, and now you have a role to play," she stated in her cryptic way. Her eyes settled onto mine, holding many more secrets than even I knew, I was sure. "And I believe that if you do not hurry now, you may never fulfill that role. The sickness quickens within you. You need be on your way."

The taint. My stomach curdled, the pain in the back of my head growing stronger, a dull ringing in my ears beginning to sound. She ushered me out of her hut in a way much too like that of an old, downtrodden woman, and I allowed her to act her given role for the time being, the dread filling my thoughts. I knew what my only hope of surviving this would be and had only hope that Duncan would offer me a chance to partake in the joining and even more hope that whatever force had brought me here intended me to survive it. There was so much left to chance in my current situation, and I had never cared for things to be left to chance. I much preferred the certainties in life. Plans set in stone, carefully thought through decisions. Leaps of faith were not my forté.

After the small deviation on my account, things proceeded as I remembered. Morrigan was commanded to lead us back to Ostagar, during which she and Alistair bickered almost relentlessly. I couldn't help my musings of them being secretly attracted to each other, no matter how overdone and cheesy the idea may be. The game itself was quite old and, after all, you could force them to sleep together and create and old god baby, right? Although against my own, personal preferences, I was never opposed to witnessing a rivals-to-lovers romance.

Then, we were at the gates of Ostagar, and Morrigan was gone with the wind. The men were left in wonderment of her disappearance, though it was about what I had expected had occured between the load screens. The guards at the gates briefly questioned my presence but took Alistair's word easily enough and allowed him to guide me to Duncan.

"Ah, a moment before we return to Duncan, please?" Cousland spoke up, motioning towards the kennels. A memory of the sick dog sparked in my mind. Did he have the flower, I wondered? The motioned guided my gaze around the camp. It was the cusp of dusk and many abandoned campfires were scattered around. Tired troops were slowly wandering towards the litter of tents. I could see ramps, leading to what I recalled to be where the mages and the templars had set up their base of operations. I inhaled slowly, instantly regretting it. It reeked of sweat and wet dog. The idle background banter had not been an exaggeration. Did all of Fereldan really stink like this? Or was it just the war camps, thick with the mabari?

"Would you mind very much if I accompanied you?" I found myself asking. My nerves were rearing their ugly head and I would much like to be around the hounds, as animals had always helped to soothe me. Cousland nodded his reply before tilting his head toward the kennel and turning to walk with me.

"There's a sick hound," he began to explain to me on our short walk to the kennel master. He offered up the blossom, the master thanking him and setting to work making a paste of the bloom. I watched with intrigue as he ground it up. I had never gotten to see this in the game. It was simply pass off and leave. "I managed to help muzzle him, but he put up quite the fight. Apparently, the flower is the only cure for his ail."

With the blossom ground to a paste, the kennel master began to remove the muzzle, only to be greeted with furious growling and barking. "Come on, pup, you need to eat it!" the man grunted, trying to force the snout of the dog into the bowl. The dog wormed his way out of the man's grasp, snarling at him and backing into the corner of his pen. With a sigh, the man gave Cousland a small look. "I'm afraid your effort may be for naught, as I can't get the hound to eat it."

Cousland began to opened his mouth, but words tumbled from mine faster. "Can I give it a go?" I asked in a hurried tumble of my tongue.

The man shrugged with a short remark of, "it's the loss of your fingers."

I ignored the comment, taking the bowl from his grasp and slowly entering the pen myself. Cousland leaned on his elbows, putting his weight on the fence. I crouched on the ground, making soft sounds to beckon the hound. The snarling began to quiet as he edged near to me, sniffing my outstretched hand.

"There you are, boy," I crooned, softly. "I'm not going to hurt you. Just want to give you something to make you feel better."

The mabari gave a small huff and snort in acknowledgement, before moving closer and pushing his snout into my face, taking a few more sniffs. He gave another snort, splattering a bit of slobber across my face. I wiped it off with the back of my hand before scratching the top of the dog's head. Carefully, I scooped up the paste with my fingers of one hand, the lifted a lip with the other. Despite the disgruntled growling that escaped the hound's throat, I smeared the paste across his gums. A thick tongue licked at it to remove it. I glanced up at the kennel master, who motioned that the dog needed all of it, before continuing the process until all of the paste had been smeared on its gums and resolutely licked off and consumed. Upon completion of my task, I rose and left the kennel, much to the displeasured grunting and snorting of the mabari.

"I reckon that one's chosen you," the kennel master informed me. "So long as he heals up fine, I'd say its yours now. You can check back with me after everything's all settled to collect your new warhound."

Despite myself, I beamed at the prospect. If things progressed accordingly- and I was allowed to partake in and survive the joining- I would indeed have myself a warhound. With a small chuckle, Cousland ushered me back toward our companions, and with that, on to Duncan to explain my situation, and, with any luck, get on with the joining.

Duncan regarded me immediately upon our approach, the surprise evident on his face. I took in his form with mild fascination, revelling in the differences between the somewhat blocky rendering and outdated graphics and reality. His most prevalent feature was absolutely his beaked nose, though it didn't detract from his almost fatherly aura. His eyes were tired and kind, his beard masking most of the lower half of his face. His piercings glinted in the firelight and his height and stature would be intimidating if it weren't for my own knowledge of his personality.

"Who's this?" he inquired, looking to Alistair for explanation. It was Cousland, however, who answered.

"She was lost in the wilds, ser," he answered, stepping forward, much like I would expect an army troop to approach an officer. "Robbed and left stranded, and under attack by darkspawn when we found her. She contracted the blight, ser, and we were hoping you would know what to do with her."

A hand rose to his dark beard as he regarded me, contemplation flickering through his eyes. "Indeed," he murmured, tilting his head. Decision marked his expression, hard resolve turning his stance. "Can you fight?"

"Minor self defense," I responded, somewhat hesitantly. "Mostly hand-to-hand, but I was taught some archery. Never against a moving target, but I was decent."

A short nod, as though it confirmed what he had already thought. "Very well," he started, turning to the chalice behind him. "We were not prepared for an extra recruit, but we will make due with what we have. The ritual these men were about to partake in- it can cure the taint." I heard what hung in the air, left unsaid. It could cure the taint to an extent. It had, however, a thirty year expiration. "I can help you, so long as you become a grey warden. You must take vows, swear yourself to our order- and our cause."

"Battling the Blight," I stated, leveling my gaze up at his. I sighed, tugging at the hair that had fallen out of my bun. "Given my current situation, I think the choice is quite obvious. Alright, I'm with you, then."

"Very well," Duncan gave a small smile. "Welcome, miss?"

"Arissa," I stated, with a small nod of introduction.

"Well met. My name is Duncan, and I suppose you've been acquainted with my recruits." I nodded. "Let us begin the ritual then. The mages are ready."

It went on as I recalled, Alistair stepping up to say a few words as Duncan concocted the mixture of darkspawn blood and archdemon blood. Just as I remembered, Daveth went first, Duncan instructing him to drink all that had been divied into the chalice, as we had to be sparing so there was enough for all. My stomach lurched as I remembered how this proceeded, having not been prepared for the reality of what I was about to see. The man convulsed, standing first, then collapsed as he heaved and wretched. I held a hand to my mouth, swallowing my horror. I had never actually watched someone die. I suppose that was about to change. After more convulsing and heaving and grunting, his body stilled. Alistair knelt, holding a finger to his neck, before shaking his head.

"A shame," Duncan sighed, gaze lowering. "Jory."

And just as it had previously gone, Jory tried to desert. And he was struck down. The sound of the sword, ringing and it pierced his armor, then the squelch of it ripping through his flesh, was not something that any game cutscene could prepare me for. A shudder ruptured through my body and I sat, unable to support myself on my quivering legs. Cousland caught grip of my shoulders, steadying me through my collapse. I waved away his hands, trying to stay myself. I would be fine. There was more to come yet.

"Cousland."

Giving me a short, hard nod, he pulled from me and took the chalice in his gauntlets, taking a deep breath before downing its contents. Like Daveth, he collapsed and convulsed. Fear rattled through me. He had to survive this. He was meant to. After he stilled, Alistair kneeled, holding fingers to his neck.

"Alive," he breathed, shoulders sagging in relief. "With any luck, he should wake shortly. Should we finish up?"

Taking the hand Alistair extended to me, I rose. I approached Duncan, shakily. "I'm dead either way, I suppose," I ground out, taking my share into my hands. The smell wafted up at me, making we want to gag already. I swallowed back the feeling, lifting the chalice to my lips before tipping it back, along with my head. It thickly slid down my throat, the taste burning upon my tongue. The bitterness and metallic taste were familiar, but a new sourness curdled my taste buds. It stung my throat, burning and searing. I wasn't aware of anything accept the white that swallowed my vision, and then the black.

Then, the teeth, glinting in the moonlight, the maw right before my face. Lips curled in a snarl, one tooth already the size of my head. A huff of hot breath, knocking back tendrils of my hair, bringing my gaze up the dark lips to the deep nostrils, and further up, to the dark gaze. Eyes, large and glaring slits at me, directly at me.

" _I come for you."_

It was an echoing, multi-toned voice that rumbled deep into my chest. It resounded into my eardrums, shooting an aching, sharp, burning pain through my head. I couldn't make a sound, only writhe at the pain.

And then I was waking, pushing myself into a sitting position, panting and huffing, trying to catch my breath, to anchor myself back to reality. Hands guided me up, supporting me as I stood. Duncan nodded to me, relief evident on his face. Two lost, two survived. He began to explain to Alistair and Aedan that the king wanted a meeting. Memories rang through my mind of what was to come. I could warn them, I realized, still gathering my wits about myself. I could try and save the king, try and rewrite the story- but something in me knew that that was not the part I was to play. King Cailan was a fool, too eager, too confident. The direction things would take, if I could guide them right- Alistair, though a reluctant king, was still a good one. Better than the alternatives.

I finally had gathered myself enough to stand on my own and pull away from the two men guiding me. I wouldn't change the course of things- not yet. I had to bide my time, watch and guide. Hopefully, it would all turn out for the best.

* * *

 **As you can probably tell, writing whats already in the game bores me. This was a quick addition, I'm pile-driving through the beginning as much as I can, as I feel its the most boring and repetitive part. At the moment, its about the same as every other woman-in-thedas fic out there, but I do promise that it will diverge soon. Bear with me.**

 **If you want a sneak peak at my plans and when we'll get off-road:**

 **we'll be sticking to the in-game story until we get to the circle tower and kinloch hold. About there, things will take a turn.**


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

It had been a flourish of words and hustling and ushering after the meeting with the king. It was apparent that the hordes were coming closer, and fast. They needed to get everyone outfitted, most importantly me. They had forcefully buckled and strapped me into the leathers and locked a helmet onto my head. Everything was ill-fitting and quite uncomfortable and I could only hope that it would hold up well. As I had hoped, I was assigned the tower with Aedan and Alistair, a bow and quiver of arrows shoved into my hands. I was pushed out to my group and ushered in the direction of the tower by the boys, who were begrudgingly ready to get to their duty. If only they knew what we were walking into.

I grabbed onto Cousland for support as soldiers rushed in waves past us. Stumbling a bit as I was knocked, he placed a steadying hand on my shoulder, holding me strong against the tide.

"We must proceed onward, to the tower of Ishall," Alistair called to us above the crowds. He held an arm out to the bridge, under an onslaught of arrows and some sort of fireballs. I could feel the dread pulling, but I followed no matter.

With the guiding pulls and pushing of my two companions, we managed to cross safely, only to be greeted in the courtyard by a mage and templar, informing us that the tower was overrun. As expected. I readied an arrow, notching it to my bow, preparing for my first strike on a living creature. A monster, sure, but still the first alive thing I would harm. Nothing like the targets they had set up in my lessons. It wasn't long before my party was greeted with the first group of darkspawn, the smell of filth and rot assaulting my senses, along with something else. A tug, a call, pulling my insides towards them. Was this the taint of the wardens? Silently, I loosed an arrow, aim striking true into the throat of a genlock.

Pulling from my in-game tactics, I tried to focus on the archers first, to give my teammates a better chance, to focus on only the opponents in front of their face. With the guards still alive outside, we managed to clear the courtyard without casualty, pushing into the tower itself. The tug in my gut told me that more were inside, as I already knew. Knowledge of the ogre towards the top had my stomach churning. We pushed onward. My first injury occurred on the second floor. An arrow submerged itself into my shoulder, causing me to yell out at the searing, burning pain.

"Arissa!" Aedan called, tossing something towards me. I caught the bottle, barely. Some sort of red liquid. A healing potion, I realized. I silently prayed that fiction had led me true and broke the stick of the arrow, leaving the point in my shoulder to staunch the bleeding and pulled the cork from the neck of the bottle with my teeth, spitting it uselessly to the floor. In a swift chug, I downed the potion.

The warmth that spread from my throat to my stomach, and onward to the rest of my body was not at all similar to the burning, searing power of the blood. I could feel newfound invigoration pushing me forward, allowing me to continue my onslaught of arrows into the horde that had found its way into the tower. When we finally reached the stairs to the third level, I hesitated, and my party noticed.

"Why are you stopping?" Alistair demanded, swinging an arm towards the staircase. "We need to light the signal immediately! No doubt we've missed the signal by now!"

"I just think we need to think this through," I began, taking a moment to catch my breath. "We have no idea what we're walking into. We need a gameplan."

"I agree," Aedan seconded me, taking a moment to think. "Alistair, we aren't waiting for a signal only you and I can recognize now. I say you and I focus on defending Arissa and she lights the signal. Mage, you try to focus on hanging by Arissa and healing where we need it."

With a small nod and impatient acknowledgement, we ushered onwards, my heart racing and adrenaline pumping as we took on more and more darkspawn. All too soon, we reached the fourth floor. While we rushed to ascend the stairs my stomach curdled more. As we approached the final door between us and our goal, I could hear distinct crunching and squelching from the other side. I grimaced at the noise, bile rising in my throat.

"What in the seven hells-" Alistair flung open the door.

The giant form in front of me was nothing that my imagination could have prepared me for. The giant, horned head whipped towards us, blood and entrails falling from its mouth. The stench of death was something I had never thought I was inhale, but as the ogre let out a roar, flinging spit and phlegm at us, it was heavy on its rotten, hot breath. My stomach lurched, but I rushedly notched an arrowed and loosed it. It stuck itself into the muscled chest of the great beast, causing it to glare at me and let out another, angered roar. Aedan positioned himself in front of me, holding out his shield and lowering himself into a braced stance.

I notched another arrow, loosing it once more into the chest of the beast. It didn't slow as it began to rush towards us, head low, horns aimed for a strike. It struck true, barrelling headlong into Aedan, who took the blow in his shield and body, being thrown backwards, past me and against the wall. It was the blow of his head to the wall that knocked him out, I believe. My eyes turned to saucers as I threw a frantic glance to Alistair. He charged for the beast, sliding low and cutting at the back of its knees. It fell, roaring in anger and swatting with an arm to grab at Alistair. Its grasp held the man strong. I searched to room for the mage, only to find him vomiting and heaving in a corner. Stupid, useless, coward. I grabbed for another arrow- but my quiver was emptied.

Terror grabbed at me as I whipped around, looking for anything. My eyes locked onto Aedan's sword. I had no clue how to properly wield one, but you stab with the pointy end, right? I lunged for it, swiping it up from the hilt and swinging it, thrown off a bit by its weight. Alistair was being affronted by a terrible, spit filled roar as I ran forward. I leapt from a bent leg, grabbing onto the arm that held Alistair, and propelling myself up. With both feet, I braced myself against its massive chest and used both hands to plunge the heavy sword deep into its throat. A gurgle was all that it could muster, blood pooling from where the sword had been plunged into it. The thing fell backwards, hand opening its grasp, allowing Alistair free.

"Light your signal!" I cried out, trying to dislodge the sword before the swarm that I knew was coming fell upon us. I tugged and tugged but to no avail. It was deep within the ogre's throat. The roar of fire coming to life sounded before hands clasped around mine and together we tugged the sword free. "Aedan!"

Alistair understood my meaning, dragging Aedan further from the door and behind us, creating a defensive wall in front of him. "Mage, prepare yourself!"

The mage at last straightened, readying his staff. Just in time, as darkspawn barrelled through the doors.

* * *

A glinting maw of teeth. Black, endless eyes.

" _I come for you."_

With a start, I wake, sitting upright and sucking in sharp breaths. Morrigan places a hand against my shoulder, steadying me. I look up to her, feeling quite frantic. I didn't ask her any questions, and she responded with her own silence. She only showed me to wear my clothes were and told me that everyone was waiting for me outside. After gathering myself and getting dressed, I pushed myself through the door, and out of the hut.

"There you are!" Aedan exclaimed, rushing towards me and gathering me into a hug that surprised me.

"Thank the Maker you're alright!" Alistair exclaimed, rushing to my side as well.

"I'm quite fine," I responded, pushing away from Aedan. "Thank you for your concern. Flemeth is quite a proficient healer."

"Do not speak of me as if I am not here, girl."

"I would never."

And so, with a long, drawn out debate between the men and Flemeth, a very reluctant Morrigan was added to our party and we set out for Lothering.

* * *

Through much arguing and convincing, I managed to drag Aedan into freeing Sten and bringing him with us. Alistair was still not quite on board with it, but alas, a giant ox-man wielding a giant sword would definitely prove useful, if not his charming grunting. Lelianna had seemed to easily charmed her way through Aedan and into our group, feeding into the ego I had noticed he was growing as our ragtag leader. Once we had garnered our group together and refreshed in supplies, I insisted we move on.

"The Circle of Magi," I urged. "We need to get to them first."

"And I believe we should go to Redcliffe first," Alistair debated, shooting an annoyed look at me. We stood at our current camp, having left Lothering days ago and heading the wrong way- towards Redcliffe rather than Kinloch Hold. "I know the Arl, I can-"

"Enough!" Aedan called over us, rubbing at his brow. "This bickering is getting us nowhere. Alistair, why Redcliffe first?"

"I lived there as a child, I know the Arl," he began in a rush, waving in motions with his hands as he spoke. He was so expressive, so active and bright. It was almost pestering. "I could possibly convince him to join us in arms against Loghain, warn him against the treachery. He could sway the odds in our favor."

"Good points," Aedan confirmed, nodding. He levelled his gaze at me. "Arissa, why the Circle first?"

"Look at our group, Aedan," I urged him, motioning at our camp. "Two warriors, a Qunari, two war hounds, two archers, and one offensive mage. We haven't a single healer. Will we find one of those in Redcliffe? Besides, Alistair admitted that he was unsure if he had enough sway with the Arl to convince him to help. We have the warden treaties. The Circle has to help us, and with the added power of the Circle supporting us, I believe we'll have better sway over the Arl."

Of course, my motivations were fueled by prior knowledge as well- knowledge that we needed mages to help Connor in Redcliffe. To my delight, Aedan relented that he agreed with me. We needed the mages support- and more than that, we needed healers. In the morning, we would set off towards Kinloch Hold to invoke the treaties and demand the aid of the Circle of Magi.

* * *

 **I admit, this was pure filler and shoving my way through the most boring, repetitive parts of the story. I am well ready to get on to my own plots and aims. Sorry for the evil necessity and half assed breaks and skips. We'll get to better parts soon- and actually character development and building relationships.**

 **Speaking of- as far as pairings go, I plan on going for the one's that I feel further the plot the most, both mine and the game's. That means eventual Cousland/Morrigan in my opinion. I'm open for debate on that front, though.**


	4. Chapter 4

**So... I have no idea what happened to this chapter when I initially uploaded it. The only thing I can figure is that whatever happened, its because I copy-n-paste upload rather than file upload. Anyways, here's the fixed version.**

* * *

FOUR

Retiring to my tent, I stripped myself of my dirt-caked hardened leather armor. My mind raced with questions and thoughts, trying to stay on one track, only to be caught up in another, and then another. Finally, my mind settled on where I was. Thedas. How on earth had I ended up here? It wasn't in any sort of way possible. Yet, it had happened. I wondered if I was suffering from psychosis, brought on from the stress of the semester. I had never begun to imagine the worlds created from psychosis could be so vivid. It could be treated with therapy and medication, right? There was no way it could be this immersive and realistic. But couldn't it? People believed their worlds.

I wasn't sure how long I had laid there, thrashing about my bedroll, unable to sleep due to my racing thoughts. With a huff, I stood and exited my tent once more, greeted with Aedan, who had taken first watch, tending to our campfire. Morrigan was still sat at her own tent, submerged in a journal. I sighed, shaking my head before moving to settle down by the fire with Aedan. His dark eyes raised to meet mine and for the first time I actually looked at his face, analyzing his features. His hair and eyes were both dark, his hair overgrown and slight messy. His complexion was pale, his eyes quickly gathering dark circles underneath. His features themselves seemed to form a sort of triangle, his forehead broad, his eyes narrow, and his cheekbones sharp, leading into a pointed chin. He held a sort of haunted look in his gaze, as it fixed onto me.

"Nightmares?" he questioned simply, taking a sip of the flask he held in his hand. A slight inhale told me it was some sort of ale, rather than water.

"That would require having slept yet," I responded, turning to look into the small flames of campfire instead. "I'm afraid your watch might have been quite a waste. I should have taken it instead."

He gave a hollow chuckle, tilting his head to where Morrigan sat awake as well. "You're not the only one," he gave before shrugging. "I don't think I would have been able to sleep either. Something about tonight, I suppose."

I tilted my head back to look up at the sky. "Is it a full moon?" I asked rhetorically. "They say it can set people on edge, don't they?"

"I suppose they must say that somewhere, if you've heard it," he responded softly. "Should we take this opportunity to get to know one another? Build trust and all that."

I felt my stomach leap into my throat in anxiety, but shrugged. "Ask away," I offered, staring hard into the fire. "I doubt its that interesting."

"What of you family, then?" he asked, turning fully to face me. "What happened to them?"

"They're… somewhere far away," I gave, trying to find a vague explanation. "Safe from this blight, at least for now. I was sent off to study and they stayed home."

"So you're a scholar?"

I gave a half smile, sending him a sidelong look. "Of sorts. Or at least I was. I never got to finish my studies."

"Because of the war?"

"I suppose so, yes." I sighed, shaking my head. "I was supposed to be meeting my friend, when it all happened. She never showed up and then…" I trailed off, remembering the flash of light, the pain… and then the wilds.

"And then the bandits," he finished for me. I nodded, trying not to feel to guilty about my lie. "Do you know what became of her?"

I shook my head again. "You've been with me since," I reminded him. "You would know, had I stumbled upon her." We wouldn't, I knew. She would be back home, probably wondering frantically what had happened to me, thinking I ended up in a ditch somewhere, when in all actuality I was here, stuck in a video game world.

"I'll pray for her safety, then," he offered, holding out his flask. I thanked him, taking a swig. Instantly I began coughing as it slid down my throat, burning at my tongue.

"That's some strong stuff," I choked out. He laughed heartily, sobering only to grin at me.

"Antivan brandy," he told me. "One of the only half decent ales out there!"

"I see."

We chatted idly into the night, both of us retiring when Sten awoke for his watch. Sleep still did not come easily, and the same nightmare echoed into my sleep when it finally came, but I managed a few hours of shuteye before we set off for Lake Calenhad. The trip felt a bit easier, as I felt a bit more at ease with Aedan after our talks. I may have known his back story and what he was meant for, but I hadn't actually know him before. It was refreshing.

* * *

Infuriating. That's what the templar at the dock was. Rude, infuriating, and wasting our time with useless shit. Not to mention the all too precious time of those locked inside the tower. My temper was flying through the roof and I was beginning to fume at him. I had forgotten how much this man ground at my temper. True to my personality, all of my emotions shone on my face. Hands laid heavily on my shoulders, turning me away. I glared up at Aedan haughtily, fuming.

"If I pushed him in the water in that armor, he would drown and we could just take his boat," I spat out, venom dripping from my voice.

"I agree with the small one," Sten stated evenly. I sent a lopsided smile at the hornless Qunari, once grateful for his linear thinking.

"We are not drowning a templar," Aedan hissed out, glaring at the both of us. "Let me handle this."

I crossed my arms and huffed, giving Sten a sidelong glance. "Drowning the swine would be easier."

I was rewarded with a grunt of agreement. "The warrior makes things more difficult. He should not lead."

I sighed, shaking my head. "No, he's the only one that can. He doesn't make things harder, he takes the path of least casualty. Its an admirable thing."

"I do not understand."

"Maybe you aren't meant to."

Aedan waved us over, signalling that he had convinced the templar to row us across. I sighed with relief, pointedly ignoring the armor-clad man as I climbed onto the boat. Aedan held up a hand as Sten and Morrigan tried to follow suit. I looked quizzically up at him, arching a brow.

"Perhaps marching onto a circle with a Qunari and an apostate is unwise," he started, glancing between them. Realization dawned on me and I couldn't help but agree. He had sound logic there. "Lelianna, Alistair, Arissa, and I will gather the aid of the mages. Perhaps you two can… replenish supplies, or get us a room to rest when we've finished?"

"Yes, yes, send us on a mundane task," Morrigan drawled. "Will we be walking the dogs for you as well?" Aedan gave the two warhounds a long look, before looking back to Morrigan. Horror and disgust colored her face. "I was not serious, though it seems you took it as an offer. Is that what you wish then? For us to babysit the beasts?"

"I can't imagine mabari fare well with boat travel," I offered, slightly amused at the developments. Morrigan huffily did as she told, Sten only standing in silence, following his orders with no question. After the matter was settled, we set off, the boat ride mostly silent. Lelianna made polite chatter, making the ride go slightly quicker.

* * *

We were greeted with rushing templars, blockading doors to the inner chambers. Orders were being barked by a man with greasy hair and a rather large sword strapped to his back. No mages in sight.

"What is going on here?" Aedan called out, bringing attention to himself. The man marched towards us, anger marking his face.

"Who are you?" he demanded, though didn't leave room for response. "What are you doing here? I gave Carroll strict orders to not let anyone across the lake! We are dealing with a delicate situation! You must leave immediately for your own safety!"

"We are Grey Wardens," Aedan declared, all but puffing out his chest with pride. "The mages have an obligation to help us against the Blight."

"I grow weary of the warden's ceaseless demand for men," he droned out, tiredly rubbing at his chin. "No matter, you'll find no allies here. The tower has fallen. We can spare no men and the mages are no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the halls."

"Then perhaps we can help," I interject, pushing my way forward. "What can we do?"

"I have already sent word to Denerim to invoke the Right of Annulment."

"The mages are probably already dead-"

"Allow us to secure the circle," I interrupted Alistair's somber addition.

"Excuse me? This situation is dire, there is no alternative!"

"And how do you know?" I demanded, glaring defiantly up at him. "The mages are not defenseless, they could be in there fighting for their lives! Did you gather the survivors, bring them all out?"

"No one could have survived those creatures!" he exclaimed, face reddening. "It is too painful to hope for survivors and find nothing!"

"So you lock who might have survived in, to die without any hope for escape or rescue?" I demand, pushing forward against him. "And for those who could have survived, you've signed for their guaranteed death! The solution to the outbreak is not the genocide of the mages!"

"Arissa-"

"No!" I barked, glaring down at Aedan, who had tried to rest a calming hand on my shoulder. I turned back to Gregor, levelling him with a glare. "You _will_ let us through, and you will let us take what survivors we find and lend them to our cause. _If_ you are right and we do not emerge with survivors before your reinforcement come, then you carry out your mass murder and we die trying. No loss to you."

"Except three Grey Wardens," he growled out. "Very well. Go, but be warned. I will not open the door unless Grand Enchanter Irving is there. If he is not, then the circle is too far gone."

"Deal."

Without another word, we marched through the doors, which slammed shut behind us. I led my group onward, scowl embedded in my face.

"Arissa, you can't just go off like that," Aedan chastised, grabbing an elbow to halt me. "There are ways of doing things, morals and conduct we must uphold!"

"Morals and conduct that allow for innocents to be slaughtered?" I countered darkly, yanking my arm away. "You are a good leader, Aedan, but lives are at stake here, and we are wasting time. We have to hurry on, before reinforcements come and needless slaughter comes."

His shoulders slumped, his eyes shutting in relent. "Perhaps my noble upbringing makes me too political for my own good," he gave, shaking his head. "I have never been quite privy to the unease between mages and templars. It never much involved me. Is there a reason you are so impassioned by it?"

I folded my arms, looking away. "Perhaps this conversation is better suited for after we've solved this?" I offered, eyes landing upon the corpses that littered the halls. A shadow fell over Aedan's face as he followed my gaze.

"Of course, you are right in that. We should move one."

The clambering of our feet moved us forward, towards the group of people I knew awaited us further in. It was quickly the we approached, Wynne striking down a demon before turning her defensive glare onto us.

"Stop! You may be wardens, but I will strike you down if necessary!"

"Wynne?" Aedan called, astonishment entering his tone. "We aren't here to hurt you, we're here to help! Gregor is calling for reinforcements, but if we can bring Irving to him, he'll call them off!"

"So he thinks we're beyond hope?" Wynne asked, lowering her staff. "Then we must rescue Irving. I'll have to guide you, take you through the barrier. I'll only allow you through if I accompany you."

"Of course," I agree hastily. "We must hurry."

* * *

I had forgotten just how much laid wait for us in this tower. Riddled with demons and abominations, we had to carve our way through. Rotten flesh had quickly become a scent I was familiar with, much to my dismay. The blood mages that had not yet turned struck on us before we could talk any sense into them. Aedan allowed one to live just before he had struck a killing blow, letting her know he would offer her no assistance in escaping the abominations she had helped create. Yet, much to my relief, he would not needlessly kill someone who was scared and no longer a threat. It was a peril filled journey through the corridors, but due to my urging, we dug through the ruined rooms, finding many bottles of lyrium and notes that could prove useful.

As we approached a room voices echoed back through the open door. A lavender glow emitted from the shape in front of a templar, who gazed emptily into the distance. A desire demon, I realized. Her goat-like legs stretched into cleft toes and sharp claws. Her torso was bared, aside from chains and tassels obscuring her nudity. Horns curled out from her skull, her voice echoing and sultry as she cooed to the templar.

"What in Andraste's name is going on here?" Aedan demanded, stepping forward with his sword at the ready.

"Do you hear something, love?" the templar asked, his voice far away and empty.

"It's just the door, darling," she crooned, running a clawed finger down his cheek and neck. "Do not fret. I will see to it. The children have just finished supper. Tuck them in while I'm away, will you?"

"Don't be long," he echoed, and eerie tone slipping into his voice.

She turned on us, slowly and gracefully, her hind legs stepping towards our group with careful intent. "You are intruding on an intimate moment," she told us, her voice stepping away from its previous allure and taking on a more menacing tone. "I do not care for interruptions."

"You've enchanted him," Aedan accused, as I found myself a bit speechless at the sight, the aura radiating off of her. It soaked into my skin and brain, sending my hair on end.

"Happiness is bewitching," she countered. I wondered if the demon really was a she- or if that was just the form that best suited her motives. The feminine form certainly seemed to have more sway than the masculine counterpart. "I have only given him what he has always yearned for. A family. A loving home. Where is the fault in that?"

"That happiness is a lie," Aedan growled. "You have done nothing but deceive him, obscured from him the truth and reality."

"She's feeding off of his inner most desires, taking away his free will," Lelianna let out in a horrified gasp. "Its unholy!"

"No one else would have known his heart," the demon crooned, slipping behind her prey and bringing her claws through his messed, dark hair. "He himself did not truly see it. I have shown him." The curled horns framed her angled face, she let a toothy smile slide onto her features.

"This cannot truly be what he desires," Aedan argued, taking an aggressive step forward.

"You have not seen what I have known," a menacing timbre echoing in her voice, bouncing off of the high ceilings and empty walls. "We are partners. I give him his wishes, and he shows me his experience of mortality."

"It's symbiotic?" I question numbly, tilting my head and taking several steps forward. She draped her toned arms around him, almost protectively. I thought back to my knowledge of the lore of demons, curiosity winning out against my logic. "While you feed off him, what becomes of him? Of his body and mind?"

"I would not see to my meal's end," she crooned, sliding across his body. "I would care from him, keep him safe, and to that end, satisfy myself."

I turned to Aedan, furrowing my brow. "If the demon does no harm to others, should we leave them be?" I question, heart leaping into my throat in question.

"I would only have him," the demon stated simply, running her fingers up and down his arms.

"You would leave this place, and never return?" Aedan questioned carefully.

"You have my word."

"Very well," Aedan sighed, lowering his blade. "You should go. Now."

"You have my thanks, if that means anything to you," the demon crooned, going back to the front of her prey. "You will not see us again." She focused her dark eyes on the templar. "Come, my knight."

With a wisp of dark smoke, she and the templar were gone. Dazedly, we turned to each other. "I hope that was the right thing," Wynne whispered gravely, shaking her head.

"It seemed mutually beneficial," I reasoned, furrowing my brow. "He was able to escape the horrors of this towers, live out a life he would never have been able to have; she was satiated, and would not seek out any others."

"It is done now," Aedan stated, tone heavy with doubt. "Let us move onward."

* * *

 **A lot of decisions are going to be fueled by my headcannons and theories, and the fic might be riddled with spoilers for 2 and Inquisition as well. Actually, it definitely will be. If I may go on a bit of a tangent, feel free to skip it, but here is my headcannon-**

 **From Solas' mission with the wisdom spirit, we learn that demons can be (if they aren't always) spirits bent from their original purpose. Not to say that it always the case, but with this particular demon encounter, I imagine that this desire demon could have been a compassion spirit, like Cole, summoned away from its original purpose. Assuming that, I would say that with the desire being something more wholesome, rather than lust filled, it could almost be a symbotic relationship.**

 **I think that it also stands that while demons are inspired by the seven cardinal sins, desire demons are not outright called lust demons. While this could just be a decision to not relate too much to mainstream, real world religions, I'd also like to think that that implies a deeper meaning. They don't just give into lust desires, especially shown with this encounter in the game. The tower itself is riddled with death and doom and torture. Its cannonically been weeks, as shown when you encounter Cullen, trapped in his torture chamber. Would this desire demon not arguably be doing a kindness, at least in its own opinion, by giving the templar an escape?**


	5. Chapter 5

FIVE

"Visitors?" A lazy voice drawled out. My eyes wandered upwards, tracing the massive, welted, blistered form of the demon. "I'd entertain you but… I am so very tired. Should we not lay down a moment, take a rest?"

Aedan stepped forward, once more bolstering confidence against the creature. He swung out an arm at a man at the foot of the creature, anger boiling in his words. "What have you done to that man?" he demanded.

"He is only resting," he droned on, lowering his head to look at the befallen man in question. "Poor lad, he was so very, very weary. As are you. Should you not join him?" His voice was hypnotic, droning, echoing, penetrating my mind. "Wouldn't you like to lay down a moment?" He continued. The room began to tilt. "Forget about all this horror, lay your head to rest with us." And then darkness.

The sun was blinding. I could tell even with my eyes closed. The light was burning through the thin flesh of my eyelids. Grogginess set upon my body, causing me to yawn and blearily rub the sleep from my eyes. Peeking one open, I saw the culprit for the blinding sun rays. My curtains were drawn open, the light shining directly onto my bed. I groaned and turned over, pulling my thick covers over my head. I heard a small giggle from beside me.

"So you're finally up, sleepy head?" A soft voice called to me. "Its nearly noon, you took your sweet time."

I sat upright, horror creeping in. "Its almost noon?" I repeated, jumping out of bed and rushing to my dresser. "So I slept through my life sciences class? Professor Louis will kill me!"

Another light, airy giggle. I turned a scowl to the blonde plopped lazily on her bed. "Calm down, Ari," she let out, setting me with a grin. "It's break, remember?"

Fuzzy air clouded my mind. "Break?" I repeated, feeling quite dumb. "Right, I don't know what got into me. I think I had strange dreams."

She shrugged, pulling herself off of her bed and practically skipping to the other side of our dorm. "I've got some coffee made," she informed me, pouring me out a cup. "I don't have any plans today either, so we can just lazy the day away again."

I quirked a brow, gratefully accepting the warm mug. "Drew Clarke? Not having plans? Are _you_ alright?"

She gave an airy laugh before sending me a mischievous smirk. "Well, I could conjure some up," she offered, reached for her cellphone on her desk. She wiggled her eyebrows at me. "You remember Daniel? Jake's friend? He's been asking about you."

I felt myself begin to flush and tossed a throw pillow at her. "Shut up," I groaned, throwing myself back on my bed. "No a lazy day sounds good."

"That's what I thought," she stated, not hiding her smugness. "Maybe you'll finally show me those sketches you've been hiding away."

I blinked a few times, looking over at my own desk and reaching for my sketchbook. I opened it up and flipped through the pages. I only vaguely recognized the drawings as my own. I couldn't recall having actually drawn them, though. They were a series of portraits, of faces I recognized but couldn't place. The first was a girl with delicate features. Soft, curved brows, a sloped nose, and plush lips. Her hair was short, cropped close to her chin, a few small braids accenting the style. Her eyes seemed to smile endearingly up at me.

"She's pretty," Drew commented, leaning over my shoulder to look down at it. "That's one of the models your life drawing classes brought in?"

I found myself nodding, even though I couldn't say I was actually sure. We flipped through the portraits, each one setting me with more unease. There were five more, each one making me feel strange than the previous. Two more women, one just as pretty as the first, but much darker in her colors, her face more dismissive. The other was an older woman, with kind, weary eyes. Then followed three men, one boyish and mischievous, the other solemn and showing age with the expression in his eyes. The final one didn't seem quite human, his features heavily exaggerated, his shape massive. He almost held an animalistic look. I frowned, closing the book.

"I don't think I want to look at these," I stated. Drew gave an uninterested shrug, turning back to her phone, smiling at something on it. "Hey, why didn't we go home for break?"

She gave me a confused look, furrowing her finely shaped brows. "Are _you_ alright?" she shot at me, comically looking me over for anything off. "Did you wake up with amnesia?"

"Maybe," I mumbled, feeling like something was off, something didn't fit. "Humor me, will you?"

She gave a dramatic, heavy sigh, shaking her head, tousling her blond curls. "Your parents renewing their vows ring any bells?" She asked, setting my a look of exasperation. Foggy memories of the ceremony came back to me. Drew had gone with me, promising to liven up the boring ceremony. We had whispered to each other throughout, cracking jokes and making fun of the serious guests. "They went on their second honeymoon, stranding you alone at your door with nothing at home? Your wonderful best friend agreed to keep you company?"

"Right," I started, shaking my head. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm so weird this morning."

"Afternoon," she corrected teasingly. I sent her a scowl.

"Anyways, thanks again for staying with me," I said, giving her a nudge with my shoulder.

"Yes, you're so very welcome! I could have been doing so much, going to so many parties!" She shot me a grin. "My cousin, Lilly, told me she got into that night club that opened right before we left. You know the one, oh, what was it called… The Demon's Den?"

I stopped, looking up at her sharply. "It was called that?"

"Yeah, wasn't it?"

I shrugged, looking down at my hands. "If you say so."

Throughout the day, I couldn't shake a feeling of unease. Something unsettled me. Something wasn't right. If Drew picked up on my feelings, she didn't let on about it in the slightest. After a bit of companionable silence with her she caught me staring at her and lifted a brow at me. I shrugged noncommittally and she gave me a gentle smile before rising and sitting beside me on the bed.

"Still not feeling great?" she asked, seeming to already know the answer. I shrugged one more and she made a motion for me to turn away from her. Curiously, I obeyed. I felt her fingers begin to run through my hair and despite myself, I began to relax. "Do you remember when we were little and I used to be so envious of your hair?"

I let out a small laugh, nodding. "You hated having curly hair. You were so jealous that I had straight hair."

"I thought dark hair made someone look mysterious and beautiful," she continued, amusement coloring her nostalgic ongoings. "But even though I was so jealous, I always begged you to let me play with it. Its still as soft as it was before."

"You used to give me 'warrior braids' and we would play like we were warrior princesses," I recalled fondly, letting myself relax into a sort of hazy daze. "Your mom would have fits over how she thought you were acting like a little boy."

" _Arissa?"_

I blinked, turning my head slightly to look back at her. "What?"

She tilted her head, giving me a confused smile. "I didn't say anything?"

I furrowed my brow, turning back around. "Oh, sorry."

" _Arissa, can you hear me?"_

I pulled away from her, getting up off the bed and spinning around to look at the room. "No, I heard something again," I started, turning to look at her. "Don't you hear it?"

She shook her head, patting the bed beside her. "I think you're just tired," she told me. "I don't hear anything. Maybe you should lay back down, sleep some more?"

" _Arissa, please, you have to focus, you have to hear me!"_

The door to our dorm swung open. Cobwebs stuck my mind, making me react slowly to the intrusion. A man stood, tired and panting, weilding a sword and clad in armor. Dark, overgrown hair obscured his face, blocking me from seeing anything that might help me place him, though something felt vaguely familiar.

"Who are you?" I asked, squinting my eyes, trying to focus.

Drew stood, tugging on my arm, scowling at the man. "Ignore him, Arissa, he shouldn't even be here. Lay back down. You need to rest."

"No, Arissa, she's not real," the man called out, reaching a hand towards me. "This is all a trick. Do you remember how you got here?"

"How she got here?" Drew barked out, scowling more now. It wasn't like her. She was never like this. "She lives here! You're the one who shouldn't be here!"

Despite my friend, I tried to remember something before today, anything. Hazy memories drifted back into my mind. I pulled my hand away from Drew, grabbing at my head as sharp pain pierced it. I shook my head. Something wasn't right.

"Drew, this isn't where we were," I began, shaking my head more fervently, trying to gather my wits. "It was dark, and raining, and I was waiting for you." Flashes of memory berated my head, pushing against a wall of fog. "You never showed up." I looked back up at her, but she was static, her image flickering. "This is all wrong."

The mirage shattered, what was once Drew erupted into an abomination, lashing out at the man in anger. I watched in shock at first, the fog breaking apart as I finally recognized Aedan. I reached at my back, relief bleeding into my body as I found my bow in my grasp. My heart ached in my chest as I loosed in arrow into the beast that once held the form of my best friend. When it fell, I wrapped my arms around myself. Aedan turned to me, panting heavily.

"This was all a ruse," he told me, resting a hand on my shoulder. "It's time to wake up now." I nodded, his image wavering and flickering as I did so, and soon, I was somewhere else.

* * *

When the sloth demon fell, I could tell I wasn't the only one set on a bit of unease. The journey onward had taken a different tone, one much more quiet, and much more dedicated. I kept in mind that there was still more to come in this tower, but I couldn't help the weariness that had settled into my bones.

* * *

 **I actually enjoyed giving a view into what Arissa's life was like. I wish I had managed to make it longer, but I was running out of ideas on what to write for the type of fantasy a "Sloth" demon would create. It may have suited Drew more to drag her out to a party, but that would have been too much excitement for Sloth. Calm and relaxation and a bleary haze of subtly clues that something was missing seemed the way to go.**

 **Excuse my skipping over the fade battle. As I've said, I have little patience in writing things that would pull directly from the game. I am simultaneously replaying the game and watching playthroughs to refresh my memory. Things are going to take a turn at the end of the circle tower plot, I assure you.**


	6. Chapter 6

SIX

I charged through the door, readying my bow, only to be met with a glowing pink barrier. It signified the cage that locked away a templar I knew we had to rescue. I turned, kneeling in front of the trapped templar, a soft gasp escaping me. Once again, I was struck with the differences between pixels and reality. His hair was damp with sweat, his messy blonde curls plastered to his head. His eyes seemed sunken, surrounded by darkness, the amber color I was familiar with seemed rather dull. My stomach turned at the hissing and wheezing sounds his frantic breathing made.

"Cullen, are you alright?" I let out, though I knew the answer.

"This trick again? I know what you are. It won't work!" He cradled his head, rocking back and forth. I had witnessed panic attacks before, and his disposition reminded me much of one. Much more than that, however, he was in a state of shock, denying reality and refusing to believe anything he saw. I couldn't blame him.

"Cullen, you're exhausted and delirious," I breathed out. "You need water."

"Don't touch me! If anything in you is human, kill me now! Stop this game!"

His words struck me, and I could have sworn that I felt a physical impact from the severity of them. Even though he was following the script thus far, it was entirely different to truly hear the dread and fear in his voice. "Please, Cullen, just take the skin," I murmur, setting the waterskin down in front of him. "I won't touch you, I won't force anything on you. I'll just leave it with you. Irving and Uldred, are they ahead?"

"What? Yes… they are…" He eyed me with suspicion. With his face turned towards me, I could truly see the dire state he was in. His cheeks were sunken, the sharp bones of his cheek and jaw were startlingly clear. His expression was turning wild, his eyes not really seeing me. "You must kill them all!"

I resigned to a sigh. I didn't want to have a debate with a man I knew couldn't see reason at the moment. He had every reason to feel the way he did. A vague promise, a half-truth would have to do. "We're going to deal with it, I promise you." With that, I rose up, solemnly shaking my head to clear it of the clouding worry and pity.

"You know this man?" Lelianna asked me softly, eyes lingering on the man huddled in on himself behind me. I tensed, having not thought before I had spoken familiarly with someone I wasn't supposed to know.

"Not in such simple terms," I responded vaguely, pursing my lips in thought. "I don't know him in a way that he would remember me, I'm sure." Something flickered behind her eyes and she settled me with a sad, knowing smile.

"I see," she gave simply, but I knew this would come up at another time, when she could get me alone. I half heartedly shrugged, stating simply that we should keep moving, do what we came here for.

* * *

The fight had been not too challenging, with the Litany of Andralla to help. Irving had come to now harm, much to my relief. So much was subject to chance in this story, and I knew this could have gone poorly. With Irving in tow, I descended back down the stairs to Cullen, who had been released from his iridescent prison. He was clutching the waterskin I had left for him, tentatively taking small sips. He regarded me with his amber eyes, his gaze heavy with grief and exhaustion.

"You made it," he nearly whispered, form unmoving. He was tense, a bit jittery, as though he was worried that the shadows would strike him at any given moment. I felt myself soften a bit as I took in his form. With him standing, I could see how his armor hung from his body, loose and ill-fitting. I wondered if it had fit well before his imprisonment, how much weight he had loss from starvation.

"Yes," I confirmed, hesitantly moving forward. "Are you ready to leave this place?"

He was silent for a few moments, blinking at me as though he wasn't sure any of this was real. His expression was guarded, his eyes searching but only offering a hard wall in their own expression. "Quite," he stated at long last. I moved forward more, resting a hand on his bent arm gently. His eyes lingered on my hand as I pushed gently, ushering him onwards. He followed my guiding, seeming hesitant and unsure in every movement.

He flinched when Wynne and Irving began discussing the state of the circle in hushed voices, his eyes hard and suspicious when he glanced at them. I brushed a hand against his arm, shaking my head subtly, hoping he would keep his thoughts to himself. He regarded me with a bit of confusion before turning his eyes forward again, though it was clearly reluctant. He tensed even more when we reached the chamber leading to the exit, where the mages watching over the children lingered, waiting to know of their fate. I hoped beyond hope that he would be able to let go of his distrust of mages sooner rather than later, but his manner in Kirkwall drifted back to my memory. I held in the sigh that threatened to release and ushered him toward the entrance room, bidding him to hold his tongue more.

Irving approached the door, calling through it the best he could, mustering all his frail might into his aged voice. It was pushed open, Greagoir standing in the threshold, face a mask of shock and relief. "Irving? I didn't expect to see you alive!"

"It is over Greagoir," Irving droned, exhaustion seeping into his words. His weariness was clearly taking hold, as he leaned on his staff for support. "Uldred is dead."

"Uldred tortured these mages," Cullen erupted from beside me. I looked up at him, slightly disappointed at the outburst I knew was coming. I had only hoped, but to no avail. He had every right, yet he was wrong. "He hoped to turn them into abominations. Any of them could have turned."

"What? Don't be ridiculous!" Irving tried to push himself straight, to show his pride and prove his innocence. It was for naught, however, his exhaustion causing him to sway, Wynne rushing to his side to steady him.

"Of course he'll say that, he might be a blood mage!" Cullen let out, anger coloring his voice. A crazed look crossed his face, suspicion and paranoia taking hold. "Don't you know what they did?!"

"Knight Commander, Cullen has been tortured for weeks," I stated, gently pushing the man back. I refused to look in his face, regarding only Greagoir for now. "He's exhausted and paranoid, rightfully so, but I am confident order has been restored."

"I will take Irving's word for now," Greagoir stated, turning his gaze towards his companion. Though he didn't say, it was apparent that he held a deep trust in the enchanter that could not be swayed by his soldier's ravings.

"With that settled," Aedan started, pushing his way forward. "We did come for aid against the darkspawn."

"Yes," Greagoir acknowledged. "The mages are free to help. Speak to Irving."

Aedan nodded, moving to speak to the first enchanter. I lingered back, eyes levelling at Cullen. He didn't meet my look, clearly unhappy and still shaken. "I request Cullen's aid," I said without much thought. My words seemed to shock everyone, including myself. I cleared my throat, pulling my gaze away from Cullen's own wide, questioning eyes.

"You what?" Greagoir asked, taken aback by my declaration.

"I want Cullen," I repeated, more sure of myself this time. Somehow, I was certain this was something I was meant to do. I had been reluctant to try and sway the progression of events, worried about what sort of repercussions may come. This, however, felt like it had to happen. Like I couldn't leave without taking this man with me. I was here to serve a purpose, and though that purpose was unknown to me, every essence of my body rang out that this was part of it. "He shouldn't have to stay here, he's a good sword, and by the circle's own logic, we'll have mages, so we'll need a templar. Do not forget, I can also invoke the Right of Conscription if need be."

"No, that won't be necessary," Greagoir droned, turning to raise a brow at his rattled soldier. "Cullen, what would you do?"

Cullen regarded me, curiosity evident on his expression. There was a flicker of suspicion across his face, him jaw working as though he was chewing on this request.

"I will not force you, if you wish to stay," I quietly told him, softening my resolve. I couldn't actually bring myself to force someone to face this, especially when I knew what horrors the future still held for him. "However, if you wish to leave this place, I offer you a way."

He gave a small nod, his tired eyes raising to Greagoir. "I will join the efforts of these Grey Wardens, ser."

"Very well."

* * *

"You return? And with two additions, but only one mage? Are we only picking up the unwanted scraps, then?" Morrigan's cynicism poked and prodded at my sore mind. I fixed her with a glower, refusing to acknowledge her thorned words.

"Isn't that what we did with you?" Alistair countered, rolling his eyes and proceeding to imitate Flemeth to mock her. "Please, take my pain in the ass daughter, keep her busy and get her away from me for a change."

"Save your bickering, please, have mercy on the rest of us for once," Aedan snapped, uncharacteristically. I raised a brow at him, my unasked question answered by the exhaustion that sat heavy on his shoulders. "We'll stay at the tavern tonight, then set out for Redcliffe in the morning."

"Grumpy," Alistair muttered under his breath. He left it at that, however, following Aedan's hunched, tense back as he led us toward the tavern.

The barkeep of the Spoiled Princess was keen to overshare, telling us all about the origin of the name before he handed us the keys to our rooms, and being rewarded with a heap of our gold. He leaned forward in delight over the payment and I could smell the stench of beer on his breath. He was clearly slightly drunk and I resisted the urge to show my distaste. Between our group, we filled up his remaining rooms. Counting the dogs, there were ten of us now. We split between four rooms, but it was still a tight fit. Wynne and Lelianna easily agreed to share a room. Aedan saddled Alistair with Sten, claiming Cullen as his own roommate. That left me with Morrigan, who was less than pleased at the prospect of sharing a room with my mabari. I easily brushed off her discontent, not caring much that we had to share.

Aedan gathered Alistair and I, calling for a "warden meeting" of sorts. We gathered outside and behind the inn, by a plot of sand, where he grabbed up a stick and began to draw a rudimentary map of Fereldan. He drew a circle over his simple rendition of Lake Calenhad, marking that it was where we currently were.

"As it was, Redcliffe was our next goal," he began. Alistair shot him a look, which he silenced by raising a hand. "It still is, technically, but I also believe we should split into two groups moving forward."

I raised a brow, looking at him quizzically. "You want to split up?" I questioned, trying to quelch my raising anxiety. This wasn't what I had expected. He nodded, drawing a line in the sand from Lake Calenhad to Redcliffe, circling the village.

"Alistair, Wynne, Lelianna, and I will continue on towards Redcliffe," he stated, tapping the sand marking. It was a good group, and they absolutely needed Wynne at redcliffe, but my stomach curdled at the idea of being left without a healer as well as either of my most trusted warriors. "Arissa, Cullen, Sten, and Morrigan should head towards the Brecilian forest. We'll meet back in Denerim and regroup, then together we'll head to Orzammar." His eyes raised up, flickering between Alistair and I. "We'll travel under the name Grey, so ask around the taverns and inns for that name. It's how we'll find each other."

"You think this is wise?" I questioned, raising my gaze to meet his, worry seeping into me.

"We're practically a small militia if we stay together," he reasoned, levelling me with a half smile. "I'd hardly call it inconspicuous. Loghain's men are looking for three wardens traveling together. I think we have a better chance of sliding by if we do this."

Though it unsettled me, I had to agree. Our camps would be massive if we stayed together and we couldn't afford the attention we would be garnering, traveling as we were. I sighed, relenting and watching as he brushed away his sand map, throwing the stick down and leading us back to our rooms. We seperated with a long look, bidding each other luck. We agreed that my group would leave first, and his not until midday. It wouldn't make up for all the time, but I hoped it would give us the headstart we needed. I doubted the time would matter so much, as I recalled that their journey would lead them to Haven _and a high dragon_ before they were finished. Mine was just a fair bit further away, and privy to offer werewolves.

Morrigan was buried in Flemeth's grimoire when my hound and I entered our room. She only looked up briefly when the door opened, then continued to ignore me and study the book. I settled onto the second, small bed in the room, glancing at her idly. Every now and then, she would turn to the journal beside her and scrawl quick notes in it. I wondered briefly if she would ask me to kill Flemeth during our journey through the Brecilian Forest together. It was highly likely, depending on what sort of speed she went through the grimoire with. I shook the thought from my head, unlatching my armors and peeling the filthy pieces from my body, glancing down at my ruined tunic. Sighing softly, I stripped to my underclothes and dragged myself into the bed, laying myself to sleep.

" _I come for you."_

* * *

 **With this, we are** _finally_ **ready to almost completely offroad. The pace has been bothering me, but it should level out now, as I won't be as tempted to pile-drive through the story. Unfortunately, with only a very vague roadmap for the plot moving forwards, updates are probably going to slow down significantly. Stay tuned.**


	7. Chapter 7

SEVEN

I was becoming quite accustomed to the restless sleep that came with being a warden. Still, weariness hung heavy after the break of dawn drug me from my half-sleep. Morrigan sat upright, already configuring her dark hair into its updo. I gave her a wordless nod in greeting, standing myself and retrieving the clean clothes we had gathered. Sliding into the new tunic and pulling up a pair of trousers, silently cursing my sluggish movements. I buckled myself back into my leathers, scrunching my nose at the smell. They definitely needed cleaning. Rot and filth were burrowing into the cracks in the hardened leather.

Morrigan simply stated that she would wait outside while I gathered the others. My hound, who I had finally settled on naming simply "Wolf," followed obediently at my heel, yawning as we moved to the room that Aedan and Cullen shared. I knocked quickly before pushing open the door, greeted with Cullen strapping on his armor and Aedan hunched over a paper, scrawling away at it.

"Letters to a long lost lover?" I tease easily, even though I know he left no one behind. He offered a short chuckle, shaking his head.

"To my brother," he corrected, turning to regard me. "I have yet to actually find him, but it brings me small comforts to write him either way."

I nodded, giving a small smile. I turned my focus on Cullen, who had yet to say a word, only silently adorned his armor. I could see now how his frame did seem too small for the armor, as though he was sunken in on himself. My chest ached, but I didn't let my eyes linger too long on him.

"We'll grab breakfast before we head out," I started, shifting my weight on my feet. "I just have to gather Sten, and then we'll be ready."

He gave me a short nod, adjusting his chestplate, not paying me much mind. Sten was easy to grab, as he was already awake as well. Alistair was still fast asleep, so I stayed quiet as I ushered Sten downstairs. Morrigan was nowhere to be seen, so I assumed she was outside doing… well, something that suited her wants. Sten stood by the door, his massive form seeming to intimidate any patrons that may have questioned us. Cullen was leaning over a bowl of stew, which looked uniformly grey and rather lumpy. I swallowed thickly before sitting across from him.

"How is it?" I asked, eying the stew with an arched brow. He looked up at me, eyes seeming to search my face for something.

"Quite bland," he answered, offering a twitch of one corner of his mouth. Even the slight motion made him seem so much younger, less haunted. I felt feather light in my stomach at the notion that he could be somewhat at ease. "Very true to Fereldan cuisine."

"I'll try to cook more flavorful meals on the road, then," I stated, responding with a smile of my own. "A home recipe, maybe, if I can find the ingredients."

"And where would that be?" he asked. I could help my initial elation at him furthering the conversation, but it quickly turned to a stab of anxiety as I realized my blunder. "Home, that is. Yours."

It was a semblance of the stuttering, flustering dialogue I remembered, but his face didn't hold the shy, unsure adoration that it had shown my Inquisitor when I had played the game in which he featured. His hadn't been the only romance I had taken part in, not by a long shot. I had played many times, each time choosing a new object of affections. My favorite had been Cassandra, in fact, but it was dampened by her own sexuality and the fact I couldn't romance her as a woman. I shook the thought away, though, reminding myself this was _life_ now, not a game that I could wishfully change and manipulate to my desires. His awkward words weren't the result of suppressed affections, no. He was evaluating me, I realized. Dissecting my reaction, trying to discern my own character.

I can't imagine what conclusion he may have gathered from my bumbling answer. "Oh, here and there," was the pathetic answer I managed. Quick on my feet though I may have been in combat, I was not with fabricating lies and excuses. I only hoped he would surrender the topic if I managed to convey my discomfort with it in the proper manner. How was I to actually explain to anyone where I was from, as it would raise questions as to how I had gotten here, if they even believed me. So, I blundered further with my less than tactful evasion, not meeting his slightly narrowed amber gaze. "I've never stayed in one place long enough to consider it home, mostly I just consider home to be with my family. I only really settled when I started my studies."

It wasn't technically a lie; my family had moved around quite a bit. I'd never fully understood why, but my father's work resulted in a lot of movement. He was a researcher, his big project being something that apparently dragged him all across the country. For most of my childhood I had actually stayed with Drew's family, as her mother and mine had been close friends.

"What were your studies?" he continued to prod, still measuring me with his gaze.

"Psychology," I gave, but at his furrowed brow I had to wonder if that field of study existed in Thedas. Clarification seemed to be needed. "The inner workings of the mind, so to speak. Why people do the things they do."

"And what makes them tick?" It was bordering on accusation, and I couldn't help but flinch. He noticed and his hard gaze softened in the slightest bit. He didn't retract the statement however, so I had to gather my words for a response.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," I relented, chewing on the inside of my cheek. "It is technically part of the study, though not something that I would choose to practice." I carefully levelled my gaze at him, venturing to challenge him, just slightly. "Just as I could conscript you to join the ranks of the wardens in more than just your sword, but I choose not to."

He leaned back, sighing and averting his searching gaze from my face at long last. Thankfully, he dropped his line of questioning, instead stating that he had finished his meal, and that if I did not intend to eat, then we should be on our way. Though I was sure I really couldn't afford to skip a meal and be choosy, I chose to not take part in the unappetizing grey stew that seemed to be the only item on the menu here. I rose from my chair as my only response, tilting my head in silent beckoning for us to be on our way. Sten followed suit, taking up a silent vigil at my back. It settled me slightly, as I was highly confident in the silent loyalty he would give me. Any way the story went, his betrayal would never be a surprise, he would declare a duel first, and either strike you down, or swear an unending loyalty, no matter his opinions of your choices.

Morrigan was outside, chastising Wolf, who had seemed to have grown fond of her. He was currently crouching and whining at her as she tried to shoo him away with small bouts of distaste. He tilted his wide head from side to side, whimpering and whining, occasionally taking a small step towards her, only to retreat back when she waved her arms at him.

"Go away, you foul mutt!" she hissed out, shooing him once more as he tried to garner her praise. "You reek of soured excrements!"

I found myself giggling at the sight. "He only wants your approval," I told her before giving a sharp, short whistle and beckoning Wolf to my side. He gave a large, slobbery dog-grin up at me, his eyes shining with intelligence. "Good boy," I cooed to him, scratching behind his ears.

"He dropped a rabbit carcass at my feet when you were on your adventure," she informed me cooly, glaring daggers at my hound.

"He was only trying to feed you," I chided, shaking my head at her. "He meant well."

"He should keep his well intentions to himself."

I let out a huff, giving up the small debate over my dog and settling a look over my assigned group. An interesting conglomeration of personalities, that was certain. I waved everyone around me, ignoring the snide remarks Morrigan made about the close concession of bodies, and spread the map I had been suited with in front of us. It was a much more detailed version than the crude depiction Aedan had etched into the dirt the night before. It depicted a few trade routes and roads that could be taken, along with the smaller, less defined hiking trails that had been used on some occasion or another. As I traced my fingers across the lines, murmuring with my group about which to take, it occured to me that this was nothing like any of the maps I had ever seen in game. The lines skidded between thick and thin, a tactical, artist hand shown in the light brush demarcations and subtle shades and shapes of the mountains, rivers, and forests. The parchments was heavy and thick and crisp under my fingertips. Small, subtle ridges brushed against my skin. We finally decided on a hiking trail that looked to link up with some small caravan route close to South Reach, crossing through the Bannorn.

With the map tucked back inside my pack, I led us out, hoping that I kept my bearings straight with the cardinal directions. It was starkly apparent that I had taken on the role of leader in our much smaller band of misfits, and therefore it word be my duty to follow the chosen route. I found myself giving silent thanks to gods I had never believed in for the fact that Drew's mom had enlisted us both in the girl scouts during our childhood years. The few survival skills I owned were only due to the troop. Memories flitted across my mind as we set out on our trek, Drew's blonde curls bouncing in front of my face, her gap-toothed grin laughing at me as I shifted unsure of the prank she wanted to play on the counselors. The warmth of a campfire and the aroma of roasting marshmallows that I didn't even like. My chest began to ache for home, for the light, safety, and warmth the memories teased and baited me with. I hadn't stopped much to think of home through my travels thus far, but with the demon's illusion fresh on my mind, I couldn't stop the reminiscing now.

With each step my chest ached more and more and I didn't seem to realize when the sun that had risen to its peak began to dip down beyond the horizon and our legs began to creak with each movement, stomach beginning to rumble with hunger. It was Cullen who finally suggested we stop and find a place to set camp for the night. It was Morrigan who found a secluded clearing which seemed a prime spot to set up. It was Sten who started the fire, plucking stones from around the area, creating a safe pit to start a tinder. Falling into a sort of rhythm, I began to erect my tent, finding large branches to use and unloading skins from my pack, throwing them over the delicately latched together branches.

The silence that fell over us signalled that it might be a longer trek than I had initially considered.

* * *

 **These chapters always look so much longer when they aren't in the web format. It makes me feel a bit inadequate to slave over one to see it stretched and reduced like this. Might have to put a bit more effort into lengthening them.**

 **At any rate, I figured out most of the holes I had in my planning for this story, so hopefully it moves along smoothly to my endgoals for it.**


	8. Chapter 8

EIGHT

 _Come home to me._

The voice shocked me, as it hadn't come from the lips of the jagged-toothed maw that repeatedly plague my nights. Instead, the gargantuan form laid curled around itself, the usually bared lips hidden under a thick, scaled tail that draped over the snout. The archdemon was not staring me down, threatening me as I had grown- not used to, just expectant of. The persistent nightmare in which the tainted god had growled out that it was going to find me had offered a routine, a sort of regularity in the foreign world I had been thrown into. The words certainly hadn't come from the giant, which seemed to be sleeping before me, its massive form slowly risings and falling, its great breath exhaling with a slight hissing.

 _Come home._

It rang clearer this time, echoing every which direction. I spun around, searching for any source, but was only met with darkness, isolating myself and the archdemon completely from anything that could be found in this strange dream. My pulse quickened at the thought of a third presence. What exactly was this? This had never been hinted at in the games. No, this had to be something to do with me, with my situation. It was the first flicker of a clue I had received since my arrival in Thedas. I desperately listened, begging my tongue and mouth to move, to be able to call out to whatever it was.

To no avail, however, as the darkness began to swell around my body, beams of light cracking through. Not yet, I silently begged. I needed more, I needed something. I wasn't ready to wake up yet. I needed answers, I needed to know-

Barking and panting and light shining broke through, yanking me into consciousness. Wolf was crouched by my head, excitement sending intense wriggling from his back end to his front, nearly throwing his balance, stabilizing, and then repeating the motion. He yelped at me, tugging his head to the flap that indicated the entrance to my tent, bucking his legs towards it, then back towards me.

"Alright, Wolf, I get it," I mumbled, throwing the fur that served as a blanket from my body, forcing myself up. "Time to wake up. Yes, yes, I understand."

He made a happy sort of whining yawn as I pushed myself up and got dressed. When I emerged, ready to strip and pack my tent, I was greeted by the sight of Cullen huddled over the fired, seeming focusing intently on something. I raised a brow at Wolf, who happily ran over to Cullen, circling him in excitement, barking and leaping around the young man. I swallowed thickly when I heard his soft, rumbling chuckle and watched him reach a pale hand out to the hound, who playfully snapped his jaw at him in response. Cullen cuffed him around the side of his ear before returning to whatever task he had immersed his focus in. He looked almost at ease without his armor, not aware that anyone but the dog had yet risen. It was barely past dawn, I realized, and nobody would be rising for another few hours. Wolf gave a false lunge at him, barking and huffing at him to get his attention. Cullen's chuckle rose up again before he trying to shush the hound.

"You'll wake the others," he warned quietly, though he voice was light with amusement.

I had half a mind to crawl back into my tent and watch secretly as he fussed with the dog. He seemed almost relaxed, but every time he tried to turn his attention back to what he was huddled over, I could see the muscles tensing and releasing in his back through his thin undershirt. His guard was dropped, for what I assumed was the first time since we had left the tower. I wanted to revel in the sight, but the moment was broken when Wolf whined at him and darted at him before bolting in my direction.

"Hey!" Cullen called, reaching to grab at the mabari before tumbling over himself from throwing his weight and landing on his side, eyes tracking Wolf, sparkling with amusement. The amber eyes landed on me as Wolf began to circle my legs, bumping me and nearly knocking me forward. The sparkle dimmed as soon as he saw me, a wall climbing back up in his features, his gaze becoming cold.

I awkwardly wrapped my arms around myself, feeling suddenly like I had been caught in the act of something untoward. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, tearing my gaze away from his face and dumbly greeting him with, "I only just woke up." It was a lame statement, seeming like I was trying to make an excuse.

He shook his head, his golden curls ruffling from the movement. With a rumbling clear of his throat, he pushed himself back up and hunched back over what I now saw was a ram carcass that he was dressing. His muscles pulsed with renewed fervor as he worked at the animal. I took a few tentative steps forwards, trying to shake the feeling of guilt and embarrassment that had crept up on me like a child that had been caught in her mother's makeup. I had done nothing wrong, I told myself, shaking my hair around my shoulders and forcing my arms to drop.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I found myself asking, peering over his shoulders at the gore before him, watching him carefully and expertly carve away at it. He jumped a little at my voice, glancing up at me briefly before returning back to his task.

He was silent for a few moment, his arms moving in a repertoire. "My father," he finally stated softly, flicking his wrist in a motion and draping a bit of meat over a stone that he had placed on the edge of the firepit. "Honnleath was quite a small farming town, before the darkspawn took it. My father thought it good to always be able to acquire food in off season, so he taught me to hunt." He paused in his movements, looking up to me again. "You never learned?"

I shook my head, crouching down beside him, observing the way he gripped the knife. "Though I think it might be a wise craft to invest in now," I started quietly, raising my eyes tentatively to meet his. "Do you think you could show me?"

He paused, seeming to consider me for a few moments. He turned over his hand, offering the knife he was using to me. "I've already finished the bloodiest parts, there's only a few more bits to take care of," he told me, shrugging a shoulder. I did my best to mimic the movements he had made and he shook his head, enclosing his hand over mine and adjusting the angle of my wrist slightly. "You don't want to go straight on like that. Hit it at an angle." I followed his instruction, trying not to picture what the animal had looked like before it had been gutted and skinned. "There you go. Next time, I'll get you earlier on in the process."

It was quick work portioning the meat and stripping it across the hot stones. He informed me that we needed to bury the remains, lest a larger predator come follow the scent while we waited for it to cook. His suggestion was to take it a little ways away from camp for further precaution and recommended that I stay and keep watch while he did so.

"You did this on purpose," I chastised Wolf when we were alone, scrubbing a hand against the top of his head. His tongue lolled out, his intelligent eyes regarding me with an expression of satisfaction. I let out a slow breath, reminding myself that any sort of nervous feelings I had towards Cullen were unfounded, a result of a falsely conceived infatuation as a result of romancing him in a _fictional video game._ Of which, this current experience, was not. This was a real man, with real emotions, and real, fresh trauma to recover from. I wasn't taking part in simulated romance, dancing around options and choices, picking experiences to suit my whimsy. The flutter in my chest when he returned disagreed with my thoughts, sending me silently cursing myself at the stupid smile the pulled at my lips when he sat next to me in front of the fire.

The cracking light of dawn combined with the fire flickering to life anew as he tended to it bathed him in warm colors, making my breath catch and my eyes drink in the red tint to his golden curls. He seemed to feel my stare as he turned to look at me with a furrowed brow. I spun my head to face the fire, feeling my cheeks burn at being caught.

"How did you know my name?" he asked, shattering the heavy silence that had fallen over us. I started a bit, turning to look at him again. Ice settled in my stomach as my mind raced trying to come up with an explanation for the question.

"I…" My mouth ran dry. I licked at my lips, looking down at my lap. "I must have heard it somewhere, I don't know."

"Right," he began, sitting up a bit straighter. I could feel his eyes, burning a hole into the side of my head. "One of the maleficarum or possessed templar just happened to let slip that the caged one was called Cullen."

"No, of course not- I- um- it was-"

He held up a hand, halting my stuttering excuses. "We've never met."

I ducked my head, clearing my throat. "No before the tower, no."

"But you know me."

I only nodded, silently.

"How?"

I looked up at him, then away, unsure of what to say.

"Is it blood magic?"

I jumped at the accusation, whipping my gaze back to his. His face was hard, mouth thinned into a line of suppressed fury at the notion. "What?" I let out, genuinely shocked. "No, I- no, I'm not even a mage! You- can't you like, feel that with your- your templar senses, or something?"

His eyes darted around my face before his working jaw relaxed and he nodded shortly, retracting to accusation. "Some sort of Grey Warden trick then?"

I shook my head again. "No," I repeated, taking in a deep breath. "I don't know how to even begin to explain, or if anyone would even believe me."

"Well, you're quite a shit liar, so why don't you give it a try and I'll let you know whether I think you've pulled the story out of your arse or not."

It struck me as bold, took me aback. The Cullen I was familiar with would never have said something like that. The Cullen I was familiar with was gentler, proper, unsure. He wasn't so brazen and blunt. But this Cullen, I reminded myself, was not a scripted bunch of pixels. This Cullen had been tortured and then passed off to my hands, as a Grey Warden. This Cullen was looking at me as a threat, a possible danger, that had been too familiar with him with no valid way of possibly having the knowledge I had.

"I'm not from here," I start in a rush of syllables, head feeling like it was swimming over waves of diction to try and fathom how to explain everything. His eyes were honed in on mine, watching in wait for any trace of falsehoods. "As in, Thedas." Narrowing in suspicion, but no contrary words to be spoken. What on earth was I doing? "I'm from another world entirely- called Earth. I don't know how I got here, or how to go back, or why I'm here, or- or- or really anything. Just that I'm here now."

"That doesn't answer-"

"I'm getting there," I interrupted, running a hand over my face in exasperation. "That's the hard part." He wouldn't begin to fathom what a video game was, so I had to find another way to explain. "So in my world, there are stories about yours. Lots of them. And they're some of my favorite. And that's how I knew you. Because you're in the stories. A big part of them, in fact."

It was a flourish of words, questions and answers shooting back and forth as he interrogated me on my claims. In the end, he was inclined to believe me, stating that it would be an impressive story to make up, and if my track record was any indication, I at least seemed to believe what I said. Whether it was true, he had stated, would have to be seen. He relented that it would explain my undue knowledge about him, however. I had to admit, it was a relief to have at least one person know. Sten was the first of our other companions to rise, giving a grunt of appreciation at seeing the slow-cooking meat before taking silent post at the edge of camp. His dark eyes stared off into the wilderness, watching for- well, I wasn't sure what, really. I supposed any sign of danger. Morrigan emerged conveniently as soon as the meat was ready. We ate quickly and in silence, the loudest one being Wolf, who made slobbering noises as he tore into his portion. It was chewier than the meat I was accustomed to. Gamey, I supposed.

"It was good," I stated amicably after finishing my portion, offering a small smile to Cullen. "Thank you for this. A nice change from Fereldan stew."

He returned my compliment with a half smile and a polite dip of his head. Nobody else said a word, leaving an awkward silence hanging in the air. The possibility that Cullen would be my only option for conversation on this venture settled heavily on my mind, causing me to frown slightly.

* * *

 **I am very much trash for Cullen. I hope he isn't too terribly out of character here.**


	9. Chapter 9

NINE

"Oh, thank the Maker!" a frail, frantic voice cried out. The blonde woman frantically ran towards us. Cullen's shoulders tensed and Sten's hand laid rest on the hilt of his greatsword, eyes narrowing as the woman approached. "They attacked our wagon, please, you have to help us!" Familiarity and recognition rang in my mind, my eyes flitting to the bushes and ridges behind her. Cullen seemed to relax a bit as he took in the situation, his mouth setting in determination.

"Who attacked you?" he inquired, taking on the veneer of a gallant knight. Maybe he couldn't resist a damsel, just as Alistair and Aedan when they had found me. "Darkspawn? Bandits?"

"Follow me! I'll take you to them!" With no further explanation, the woman ran ahead, meaning to lead us headlong into the ambush. Cullen made to follow her with no further question when I grabbed onto his elbow, holding him back.

"This is a trap," I informed him, my gaze flitting from him to Morrigan and Sten.

"Indeed," Morrigan concurred, arms crossed and face the epitome of boredom.

"How do you figure?" Cullen questioned, eyes narrowing at me. I let out a huffing breath, leading the group at a slower pace behind the woman, lest she begin to suspect we weren't playing into her farse.

"What sort of helpless, defenseless victim- whom, may I point out, has no apparent injury, or even dishevelment- runs headlong back into danger with no regard?" I raised a brow at him to accentuate my point, shaking my head.

"So what do we do?" he questioned, stopping in his steps. "Turn the other way?"

"No," I retorted, continuing forward. "We follow, and ready for an ambush."

"Yes, yes," Morrigan drawled, scowling at me. "Allow us to fall prey to the scum. Why not waste more time idling about, fixing all the trivial issues in Fereldan while the blight furthers on. Shall we twiddle our thumbs and braid each others hair as well?"

"Just trust me." I kept my face forward, slowly notching an arrow into my bow, readying for the oncoming attack.

Just as I had expected, the woman ran straight up to a tanned elf, his hair long and smooth, pulled halfway back. The tattoos on his face didn't resemble any vallaslin I knew. His lips pulled into a daring smirk and he saw us approach, his arm raising and his wrist flicking in a signal. Upon the motion, the bushes rustled and reinforcements swarmed around us, surrounding our small group. I was prepared for the tree that began to fall, shoving my shoulder into Sten to lurch him forward and both of us out of the way. He gave me a small dip of his head in acknowledgement, his sword glinting in the light as he unsheathed it.

"The Grey Warden dies here!" Zevran called out as he pulled out his dual daggers. I breathed in a long, focusing breath as I aimed my bow, ready for the battle to begin. Sparks jumped from the fingertips of the woman who had baited us, only to dissipate when my arrow lodged through her throat. Zevran's mouth pulled into a grin, as he seemed to realize he was in for an actual fight, rather than a quick, easy assassination.

I gratefully smiled to Morrigan when a barrier flickered into existence around me, shielding me from an onslaught of arrows from the ridges around us. The barrage halted while I heard the grunts of Cullen, slicing through the archers atop the cliffs. The barrier dissolved, and in the knick of time I raised my bow to halt the swing of a dagger towards me. I hastily ducked under the second, pulling hard with my weight against the one that had lodged itself into the hardwood of my bow. Zevran's grip released the stuck dagger, relenting to using just a singular. I spun and danced around him, careful to dodge his quick, fluid attacks. It was the only time that I had actually felt that fighting was more akin to dancing, exchanging movements with Zevran. He had a sort of elegance and grace to his motions. Expertise and artful. I kicked the dagger free of my bow when I realized I had held him off long enough for my companions to take care of his team. Catching the blade, I forcefully hit the hilt to his head, successfully knocking him out.

I turned back to my group, sighing in relief and smoothing my gathering and bunching armor. "Well," I began, smiling slightly. "I told you that was a trap."

Cullen glowered at me briefly, but my attention was tracking Sten, who was still heading closer to the collapsed elf, his blade ready. With a crankback of his arms, he began motion to swing.

"WOAH, WOAH, WOAH!" I spun in front of him, halting his swing and barring Zevran off with my own body, heart racing in realization that the edge of his sword stopped only a breath from my center. "Don't kill him!"

"He attempted to kill us," the hornless Qunari stated gruffly, holding his sword in place still, ever so close to my body. "Why should we spare him?"

"We can use him," I responded, laying a hand carefully on the long blade and pushing it away ever so slightly. He relented his hold on it, lowering it away from me, much to my relief. "Tie him up, question him."

"You think this was more than just a trap for passersby?" Cullen questioned, tilting his head in consideration.

"A trap for any random person?" I retorted, pushing the unconscious assassin into a sitting position and looking for something to restrain him with. "On a secluded trail, two days out from any town? And what would any sort of caravan be doing out here, rather than the designated caravan routes, might I add?" My point proven, Cullen assisted me in tying up the elf.

* * *

Groaning and rustling signaled that the blonde rogue was waking up. I honed my attention onto him, the others following suit. His arms and shoulders twitched, though they remained tied behind his back, his movements restrained. His eyes squinted open one by one, blearily sliding around before hesitantly focusing on me.

"What… I… oh… oh, I rather thought I would wake up dead," he mumbled out, his heavy Antivan accent only emphasized by the sleep still heavy in his voice. "Or, not wake up at all, as the case may be… but I see you haven't killed me yet?"

"Not yet," I concurred, bending down in front of him to examine the sizable lump on his head where I had struck him. "Though my friends here are quite eager to."

"You're an aggressive little minx, aren't you?" The comment made my skin crawl, despite knowing his flirtatious disposition beforehand. "Lovely, too, but if its questions you intend on asking me, let me get right to the point." Humoring him, I quirked a brow. "My name is Zevran- Zev, to my friends. I am an Antivan Crow, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. I have obviously failed."

"Yes, and you were hired by?"

"One Teyrn Loghain," he answered readily. "My failure sets a rather poor precedent, I'm afraid."

Impatience at the slow approach to the point set upon me and huffed haughtily. "Perhaps the Crows should have thought twice about accepting a contract against an order whose sole purpose is to slay the archdemon?" I bit out.

He offered a slight smirk. "Indeed." He tilted his head, eying me with a mischievous glint. "As it were, I bare no loyalty to Loghain. My loyalty to the Crows is forfeit, as my life would be to them, due to my failure."

"And so you want to join me and mine," I finished for him.

"You're not seriously considering this?" Cullen interrupted, moving forward a hair, with a hand clenched on the hilt of his sword.

"An assassin could be useful, you have to admit," I pointed out, turning to him.

"A wise plan, though I suggest you take habit in checking your food and drink from here onwards," Morrigan chided, arms crossed.

"I would pledge my loyalty to you, if you would allow me," Zevran added, not very helpfully.

"Look, the Crows would kill him if he tried to return," I reasoned, turning fully to my group. "He's a skilled fighter and the wardens don't pay mind to criminal background or politics. The darkspawn certainly don't, so why should we?"

"Do as you will," Cullen stated, glowering at me a bit. "But don't expect me to share a tent with the assassin."

"I'd never." I rolled my eyes before moving to release Zevran.

* * *

Zevran seemed to grind the gears of everyone in my party. Including my own. He relentlessly let out suggestive comments and I found myself wishing for the slightly awkward and uncomfortable silence that had once hung over our travels. The one upside, however, was how amusing it was when he flustered Cullen. Zevran himself had sent many and unwelcome invitation the templar's way, succeeding in sending a bloom of pink across his ears and cheeks and earning an upturn of Cullen's amber gaze and a muttered "Maker's breath." Zevran was also not shy offering himself to Morrigan, who only responded in annoyance, though it was clear that she enjoyed the flattery. I tried to think of creative way to shoot him down, which he found no difficulty in easily waving away and making clever word plays of.

He was clever with his words and quick with his tongue, I had to give him that. It was hard to keep up with, and usually ended with me holding up my hands in surrender and shaking my head. He seemed to realize that despite how much I bantered with him, I was genuinely uninterested and never pushed too far. We had a bit of an unspoken understanding between us and he had agreed to begin to teach me to use daggers, lending me a spare pair of his to use. He unabashedly showed me how to strap a hidden hilt to my upper thigh. He had seen and touched enough bodies to not be shy about it, slipping his finger between the straps and my leg to make sure it wasn't too loose or tight. Cullen had sputtered and flushed at witnessing the contact, objecting to the public display of his deemed "intimate" touch. I had easily brushed him off, assuring him that it was strictly educational and survival based, and that nothing was untoward (to which Zevran had used as an opening to offer, but his hands had retreated from my leg already). I had nothing but trust that consent was important to the elf, and that so long as I was firm in not wanting to take up his offers, he would not push any of my boundaries.

Zevran had informed me that my movements were quite rigid, a fact in which he was sure he could change. He stated that I thought too much about each movement, put too much intent behind them, making them easy to read. He told me I needed to improvise more and think less. I reminded him that my rigid, easy to read movement had bested him, and he conceded my point there, but countered that I could still improve. I relented that to him, allowing him to guide my movements to by more fluid. He told me I tried too hard to control the battle and the movements, that I needed to loosen up and let go a bit. I resented the statement.

Despite the misgivings my companions held, I grew close to the elf, fostering an unexpected friendship with him. He opened up to me quickly about his past and his fleeting memories of his parents and being sold to the Crows. I told him stories about Drew, confessing that to some extent, he reminded me of her. He seemed to fixate on those stories and I joked that if anyone could capture his heart and hold him down, it would be her. He mused that he would love to one day meet my wild friend, and I dodged around it, changing the subject quickly back to him. It wasn't long before he confessed to me his fascination with the Dalish, expressing his excitement that we were attempting to track a clan supposedly camped in the Brecilian Forest. I encouraged him gently, hoping he wouldn't be disappointed with it, as this particular clan was probably going to fail his expectations, being the perpetrators of an ancient curse and all.

Cullen resented the closeness between us, seeming to designate himself as my protector from Zevran, always seeming to hover around when we sparred. He kept true to teaching me how to hunt as well. We met early in the mornings, before anyone else had risen. He taught me how to track, as well as how fully dress and portion animals. He offered me small bits and pieces of closeness, telling me about his siblings, sometimes chuckling softly to himself and smiling fondly while he was lost in memories. It was something that I treasured despite myself, knowing they were smiles only I saw. Despite how strenuous our travels were, I had noticed that his face had begun to fill out, the hollows of his cheeks not so hollow, his armor not so lose.

He would occasionally ask about my life, my home. After having told him the truth, I was more susceptible to his inquiries. I informed him that I hadn't really lied when I had stated that my family moved around a lot, but added that through most of it I had stayed with Drew. Many of his questions about my family eventually led back to Drew's family, sparking the realization that for the most part, her family was more family to me than my own. He listened intently to me when I spoke, often hanging on small details I tried to skip over. He tried to understand the things that I wasn't able to articulate; namely the many technologies and inventions my world held and Thedas lacked.

He began to accept that I just knew things, no longer questioning when I knew too much about him. One of the first slips I had made was passing him a bottle of lyrium one morning when I noticed he was exceptionally twitchy. He had practically set into a full-blown interrogation before relenting when I tried to explain that it was because of the "stories" from my world. The next time I had asked about Mia, who he had yet to mention. He had merely commented on how I seemed to have him at a disadvantage, knowing so much more about him than he knew about me. When I mentioned that we could detour to South Reach, maybe visit his family, he hadn't bothered acknowledging that he hadn't told me they had fled there, only offering a small sound of agreement.

Morrigan kept her distance from everyone, seeming to put a large amount of effort into it, more so than I had expected. She seemed even more dedicated to the grimoire, and I suspected that she was close to asking us, or rather me, to kill Flemeth. She rarely acknowledge that Cullen and Sten existed, only talking to Zevran and I when we started the conversations. She didn't seem to dislike me, which was as much as I could ask for from her. I wouldn't go so far as to say she regarded me as a friend, nor I her, as I didn't think I could entirely trust her. I knew she had her own motives, and those were far beyond me.

Sten was… Sten. He did what was necessary and was straight to the point, never caring for conversation or niceties. He thought most things that I did trivial, though he wasn't so tactful in saying so. I hoped he wouldn't challenge me, as I never claimed to be leader, reminding every now and then that we would meet with Aedan again eventually, who was the actual leader. It seemed to placate him when he seemed more dissatisfied with me.

We had all come to a sort of understanding and bond, despite the conflicting personalities and opinions. When we finally emerged out at South Reach, we were all relieved to civilization. I offered that Cullen lead the way onward, but he informed me that he had never actually been to South Reach, and he only knew that his family was here from Mia's letters. Our travels hung heavy on our bodies as we entered the town, ready for rest and company that wasn't each other.

* * *

 **If it wasn't clear, this chapter spans over the course of a few days, maybe a week or two? We've recruited Zevran, which gives me more fodder for dialogue, thankfully. I figure (and Arissa figures) that we've got time to spare to visit Cullen's family, as Aedan's group has to go from redcliffe, to the circle when they help connor, then to denerim and haven when they cure the arl. Lots of traveling for them. The Brecilian forest has a fairly direct questline, in my opinion. Of course, for my plot purpose, its going to have more than Arissa expects, but we'll have to wait to see that, as it'll plunge us into the main plotline I have in mind.**

 **I do see you lurkers reading this and I appreciate that you take the time to read this self-indulgent story.**


	10. Chapter 10

TEN

South Reach might have been a large town once, but with so many refugees crammed inside its boundaries, it felt suffocating. The streets were packed, the shops hectic and chaotic. Cullen seemed to brood more each time some stranger brushed past him, bumping his arms or shoulders, paying little mind to it at all. Morrigan and Sten bristled just as much, and I recommended that Sten go look for somewhere outside town to make camp while Morrigan restocked our supplies. Morrigan begrudgingly followed my recommendation, scowling as Zevran decided to join her, winking at me as he followed her retreating form. Cullen and I were left to fend for ourselves, Wolf clinging to my side so tightly that he tripped me more than a few times. After about the sixth stumble, Cullen grabbed my elbow and threaded my arm through his, keeping me steady and helping me to weave through the crowds. The refugees that couldn't get rooms in taverns were sent to the Chantry, we learned from a talkative beggar. Cullen shook his head slightly when I gave the man three silver, telling me quietly that there were endless amounts of people who needed the coin and I couldn't hand all our money away. I waved away his words, pointing out the large building in the center of town instead.

"Is that the Chantry?" I asked him, knowing he would surely recognize one before I would. He nodded, tugging my arm to lead me to it.

The Chantry was crowded, but slightly more organized. The large building was structures similarly to churches back home, the ceiling rising and falling in steeples. Stained glass accentuated accents and windows, decorating the insides with colored strips of light. Makeshift stands ordered people into lines, passing out blankets and rations.A flustered, sweating man sat at a small table, scrawling frantically on sheets of parchment, hastily going back and forth with a group of people who seemed rather frantic. My chest ached in sympathy for the people here, the realization that these were people forced from their homes sinking in. The air oozed heavy with the smell of fear and sweat, the despair and desperation seeping into my skin.

"You aren't refugees."

It was a statement of fact, not a question. The voice was hard, tired, and feminine, bringing my eyes to the source. It was an elven woman, arms wrapped around a barrel that sloshed as she adjusted her grip. Her silvery hair was falling out of its braids, dangling in front of her face as her eyes measured us up.

"No," Cullen agreed, dipping his head in gentle acknowledgement."We were hoping to locate some people here."

A sharp look crossed her face, the corners of her mouth slipping downward in distaste as she regarded him, eyes honing in on the sword emblem on the center of his chestplate. "Now, listen, ser, I understand your organization an' all, but these people here are in need of help, not some big burly tryin' to assert dominance on 'em."

Cullen's eyes narrowed at the elf, mouth opening to no doubt put her in her place for speaking out of turn. I hastily moved forward, stepping between the two and diverting attention onto myself. "We're looking for his family," I clarified quickly, holding up my hands. "They were supposed to have come here from Honnleath."

The woman relaxed slightly, shoving the barrel against Cullen's chest, who quickly caught it in his arms, eyes flying wide and shocked. "Gerald's the one sorting the refugees," she told us, spinning on her heel and waving us to follow. "He can help you out. Get in line, an' I'll take that back now." She waved us to the back of the crowd surrounding the sweating man frantically trying to keep up with the people begging with him to look for certain names. She held her hands out to Cullen, who awkwardly passed the barrel back into her skinny arms. She gave a short nod, spinning on her heel once more and moving through the throngs of people, forcing pathways for herself.

"She was quite insolent," Cullen muttered as we stood in what could barely be described as a line. It was more like a crowded circle, growing more and more with each passing moment, causing redness to rise in the face of the poor man as he tried to keep up with the demands.

I shook my head, smiling wryly up at him. "She was protecting the people," I contradicted lightly. He glowered down at me, causing small lines to crease around his mouth and brow.

"She stood in this Chantry under the eyes of the Maker with complete disrespect for the very order that was created to carry out his demands," he objected, ever dutiful and faithful. I sighed lightly, tilting my head to the side and letting my eyes drift around the building, settling on a statue upon a small platform in the center of the building. Andraste, I assumed.

"You're making more of this than it is," I told him, shrugging. "Let it be what it is. People are scared, she didn't want them more scared." I gave him a sideways glance. He was staring hard at me, his face unreadable. He sighed after a few moments, letting his shoulders drop. I took it as a small victory, standing up a bit straighter, only to stumble back as someone shoved their way passed me.

Gloved, strong hands caught my shoulders, holding me in place. I looked at at Cullen, who shook his head, glowering at the crowd around us.

"This is getting us nowhere," he started, waving a hand at the people who had cut in front. "There is no order to this."

I opened my mouth to object, but he was already pushing his way through the people, who recoiled away from him when they saw what he was. It shocked me a bit to find the subtle signs of discontent, even now, years before the small dissatisfactions would come to a boiling point. I followed behind the path he made, ducking my head down and not making eye contact with the weary faces that stared at us. Cullen's hand slammed onto the makeshift table, making the nervous Gerald jump in his seat, eyes darting up to the templar before him, face paling.

"Can I h-help you, ser?" his voice shakily croaked out, hand darting up to swipe some moisture from his heavy brow.

"Is there anyone here with the name Rutherford?" Cullen demanded, voice resembling that of the commander he would become.

Gerald's hands fiddled quickly with the parchments, shuffling through them. A heavy silence had fallen over his table, everyone that had once clambered for the man's attention now watch Cullen. "Ah, yes, h-here you are," Gerald began, tracing his fingers across the dark scrawl. "Three. Two women, one young man. Th-they're across the town, in the little red house. An elderly w-woman took them in."

"Thank you," Cullen muttered, whipping around and moving to retreat, but only succeeding in barrelling into me. His hands caught me for the umpteenth time and he wordlessly spun me around, leading me out of the crowded building, weaving through the people with more ease this time.

"You could have been a bit kinder about that," I chided over my shoulder as he walked quietly behind me.

"We wouldn't have made any progress."

"Still."

He didn't answer, just setting his jaw and taking the lead, eyes scanning for our destination.

* * *

"OH, YOU SODDED STUPID CHILD!"

Her voice roared out of her petite body, her copper hair bouncing around her face as she leapt at Cullen, flinging her arms around his neck. Cullen's eyes flew wide at the gesture, but he caught her nonetheless. Even though her hands beat relentless against his back, he let out a fond chuckle and nestled his face into her hair briefly before letting her down and letting the small smile linger on his lips. It was the closest I'd seen him to the man I knew from a stupid video game, but it still made my gut fill with a relentless fluttery feeling.

"How hard is it to bloody write a letter every now and then?!" she demanded, breaking away from him completely and circling him, seeming to examine him as she circled. "You had us worried sick you stupid, stupid man!"

"Enough, Mia," he chided, though he seemed to be recoiling from her a bit, making her chin tilt higher in authority. "Where are the others?"

"Oh, Branson is out back fixing the gate for Miss MacWallace, but he'll be just tickled pink that you've come," Mia continued, still glaring up at him. A slightly devious spark entered his eye at the mention of his younger brother. I couldn't do anything but watch the scene unfolding before me, enraptured by this less guarded side of him. He seemed years younger in the moment, like a boy ready to wreak havoc on his siblings. Maybe he was. "Rosalie was taking a nap last I saw- let me- ROSIE!"

She marched into the red cabin, off on another mission, possibly to throttle the youngest of the Rutherfords awake to greet Cullen. It didn't even occur to me that I hadn't been acknowledged in the commotion, I had been too caught up in staring at the templar who had now turned his delighted face towards me. His cheeks colored a bit as he seemed to remember my presence and he cleared his throat, grin slipping away and his usual serious, guarded expression returning. I tried hard to ignore my disappointment.

"My apologies," he began, somewhat awkwardly. "Mia is quite unbearable at times, but there's really no stopping her when she gets going, so it's best to just let her- no, sorry, it was rude, I should make proper introductions." He made to turn to retrieve her but I should my head, holding up a hand to stop him.

"Its alright, Cullen," I assured him, leaning back a bit. "It's your family, I should let you spend some time with them anyhow."

He began to say something, but he was cut off by Mia bursting out of the cabin once more, hauling a head of curly blonde hair with her. "Got her!" she called triumphantly, but her voice sounded faraway, like it was underwater.

Long, spiralling tendrils of hair slightly shadowed the bright golden eyes, but they were there, wide and slightly dull with a sleepy haze. She was dressed in a drab commoners gown from this world, but her mouth held the same quirking upwards in the corners they always did, her high cheekbones only accentuating the ever present smile.

" _Drew_ ," I breathed out, not realizing it as my legs had me stumbling forwards. "Drew?" I repeated, louder this time and more questioning as her eyes landed on me, confused and holding no signs of recognition. "Its me, Arissa," I tried, to no avail. A hand landed on my arm and I turned, searching Cullen's face for why he had stopped me from reuniting with my friend.

"Arissa, this is my baby sister, Rosalie," he stated, face drawn with slight concern. I swallowed and nodded, stumbling backwards a few steps. Of course it couldn't be her. The resemblance was striking, practically exact- but she also heavily resembled Cullen. The same golden curls, the same amber eyes. She wasn't my friend, no. She was a stranger, a ghost of another life that was no longer mine.

"Sorry," I let out, turning away. "Sorry. I'm gonna go- I'll catch up with Morrigan, make sure she hasn't turned anyone into a toad and all." It was numb and hollow, but Cullen offered nothing to stop me, his sisters watching the scene with unabashed bewilderment as I retreated, Wolf right at my heels.

* * *

Tracking Morrigan down was as simple as following the sounds of arguing, all clues leading back to a very offended merchant who was absolutely refusing to trade a single item with her and demanding she leave. I was quick to usher her away, profusely apologizing to the man, who muttered and grunted with displeasure as we retreated. She expressed a bit of distaste towards me as I hauled her off. She was rather huffy at times, but I disregarded her, finding a secluded spot to stop and sit down, burying my face in my hands.

"I hope you do not expect me to drabble on comforts and ask about your woes," she stated icily, eyes narrowing at me. I sighed shaking my head.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Morrigan," I retorted blandly. "I just wanted to get away from the crowds."

She relaxed a bit, eyes losing the slight hostility. "Of that, I can agree. How can anyone stand the reek of those dirty people?"

I didn't offer any sort of answer, choosing not to try and reason with her in any way either. Morrigan wouldn't have understood if I had tried to muster any sympathy for the people from her and I had to admit that a part of me agreed. I was hardly able to stand the must for any longer. I slided my gaze up at her, raising a brow.

"Hey, where did Zevran go?" I questioned. She blinked at me, seeming bored with the question. "Wasn't he with you?"

"The elf found himself a pretty girl that was infatuated with him to bed," she stated simply, as though it was obvious. I nodded. I should have figured. The silence lingered on between us once more, and to my surprise, she was the one to break it this time. "I have been reading my mother's grimoire."

I rose a brow at her.

"Aedan informed me that you were the one to find it in the tower," she continued, not looking at me. "For that, I must thank you."

"You don't need to, but you're welcome," I responded quietly, suspecting what this was leading up to.

Just as I suspected, she propositioned me to help her kill Flemeth. I agreed, stating simply that I would confer with Aedan about it when we joined back up. She thanked me once more, which was a bit unsettling to be honest. I figured it made since to do it when traveling from Denerim to Orzammar. Even though it was quite a detour, it wasn't backtracking like it would be now. Soon enough, I decided we should all regroup and beckoned her to accompany me in tracking down Sten and Zevran.

* * *

 **I feel like I'm stuttering a bit on the buildup to my plot. I need to develop character relationships more before I can get into it, but I struggle a bit in writing Morrigan, who is rather important to my plot. I might have to do a few side projects to get more into her character. I find that I miss Aedan, Alistair, and Leliana a lot, as they had an easier dynamic with Arissa in my head. They will reunite, sooner rather than later, and the groups will shuffle a bit again, but I wanted to give Cullen some room and reason to break out of his broody state first.**

 **His standoffish-ness is inspired by dialogue with him in Inquisition, in which he states that the torture he endured in the tower changed him for the worse and how it took Meredith and the events at Kirkwall to break him from that. I'm not one for the whole "love saved me from myself" deal, as I'm a strong believer in "only you can fix yourself" and you shouldn't ever take that credit away from yourself, so I want him to have time with his family to "soften" him so to speak.**

 **To be clear, I also have no intentions of bringing Drew into the story in any way other than Arissa's subconscious. Arissa is the only person from our world that will be in this story. Drew is merely the person that Arissa misses the most, so she keeps cropping up.**

 **Anyway, that's enough of my rambling. I'm going to get to work on fleshing out the next chapter now, as I'm not entirely pleased with this one, but we're trucking along.**


End file.
